


Collars Of Ardor

by The_Nerd_Alert



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adult Content, Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe-No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Collars, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Concubine, Consort Bucky Barnes, Consorts - Freeform, Cuddling & Snuggling, D/s relationship, Dildos, Dom Drop, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Drama, Drama & Romance, Facials, Feathers & Featherplay, Figging, Irish Steve Rogers, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, London, M/M, Master Steve Rogers, Master/Pet, Older Man/Younger Man, Older man Steve Rogers, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Language, Pets, Porn With Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Public Blow Jobs, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Pure Smut, Riding Crops, Rimming, Russian Bucky Barnes, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Steve hits an emotional low from playing too hard, Submissive punishing, Subspace, Teenage Bucky, Top Steve Rogers, Victorian Attitudes, Villains, Wax Play, because he's a good little sub, d/s scenes, no sub-drop, russian bucky, so Bucky comes to his rescue, steve is a first time dom, victorian london, who loves his master, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 135,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Nerd_Alert/pseuds/The_Nerd_Alert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 1880 in London, and Captain Steve Rogers seems to be the ONLY man in the world who has not found his Consort yet. It is a global practice, to own a Consort before the age of 30, or risk paying Taxes into the Consort Union. But... Steve just has not found his One yet. If he is to have a Pet for life, he wants his to be perfect. So after a disheartening birthday party, and urging from his wife Peggy, Steve sets out to spend the evening alone... What he did not expect was to stumble upon his One and fall head over heels in love with the boy. Now, if only he could melt that Winter heart of Buchanan's and make him his...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Stigma

**Author's Note:**

> Guys... Guys...
> 
> I have a problem. I can't stop. Help. Help! I have too many stories to write!!!! HELP!!! *stucky has taken over my brain*
> 
> Anyway, I'm sure there are plenty of Consort Stucky stories out there in the world, I just wanted to take a crack at my own spin on one. Plus I was listening to the Sherlock Holmes soundtrack and well.. this was spat out at 1 in the morning. So there's probably lots of editing to do still, but eh, I'll post it and fix the first chapter later. (edit:all fixed up and the title made much more elegant! Commence the plot)
> 
> Anyway, here we go. A shameless smut multi-chapter fic coming your way. Yeah. There's gonna be a lot of sex here. Just so you know. Good luck getting through this :D
> 
> Also, I put the Underage tag on the Archive warning, more as a precaution than anything. While the sex scenes involved will be of those above the age of 18 (if barely) there will be references and talking of sex UNDER the age of 17. So i thought I'd be safe and just put down the Archive warning, just in case :D I'll be updating the tags as I go!
> 
> Side note: I know I'm using the term "Pet" for the consorts in this story, but I am going to make a distinction here. Pet is not to be thought of as the type of pet termed in modern bdsm culture. For the time period set for the story, I am using the term "Pet" as a form of endearment, not as a pet that gives up all self control to their master or mistress. Consorts will behave sexually more like a Submissive, not a slave, as everything they will be doing is discussed and agreed upon, and the Consort is treated like a prized lover. Also I am venturing into writing this style of sexual play for the first time, so if I make mistakes in the culture, please tell me so i can correct the mistake.
> 
> Major note: I am changing the first two chapters of the story. Not entirely, just enough to,lose sense of the suggestions my beta offered me to improve the story.this means I have made their speech far easier to read, I've shortened their names and given them back their original personalities,am I while still keeping to the theme of the Victorian era. I do hope you guys don't mind the changes. Enjoy!

The hall about them bustled with life and the chatter of talk, laughter, glasses clicking merrily, and music playing echoed in the vaulted ceilings above. The light was low, candles and gas-lamps illuminating the space in a soft glow, and reflected off of the copious silver cutlery laid out on each table with careful precision.

It was a lively party all around, and the guests reveled in the festivities with the careless abandon of a few too many drinks poured throughout the night. Well... all, save for one quiet guest of the party. He, alone, sat in the far corner of the room, alone at his table as he watched the party-revelers dancing amongst each other, drinking heavily. As a Captain of the Royal Army, he knew all eyes were on his figure as the Man of the Hour, and his manners were to be respected by all.

So naturally, Captain Steven Rogers had chosen this moment to slouch against the wall, resting his bearded chin in his hand with a tired sort of boredom as he watched the party ensue around him with total disinterest.

"I'm terribly, sorry, Captain, but would you mind telling me _exactly_ why you are sitting like that?" An amused voice broke over the din of the crowd. He looked up from his musings to find his wife, Margaret, staring down at him with a humored smile painted across her fair features. "Despicable manners, if you ask me, Steve."

Steve rolled his eyes, straightening his posture as he stood from his seat and politely withdrew her chair from the table. He watched as she sat daintily in her seat, the taffeta skirt blooming around her in elegant puffs. "I am sorry, Peggy, I suppose my trip back from Paris got the better of me." Steve apologized, though his words barely concealed the sarcasm coloring his words.

"Bull, Steven." Peggy chuckled as she plucked her wine glass from the table, giving the ruby liquid a cursory sip. "You've been awful this entire night, and you know it. I know you've been feeling a sort of... _pressure_  under the circumstances from the others. But you really must behave." Placing her wine glass down on the tender stem, she looked up to the far wall. Waving her hand carefully, her amused smirk melted away into a devoted smile as she saw her attention was noted. "I mean, after all, it is the night of your 30th birthday, Steve, and you've still not picked a Consort? People are beginning to talk." Peggy murmured to him before glancing up to the far wall once again, waiting for Angela to appear.

Both Steve and Peggy watched as the small woman left the crowd standing at the far wall, her bare feet gliding across the marble floor in silent steps. The girl was young, about 4 years Peggy's junior, with thick brown hair and bright green eyes. Her slim figure was wrapped in a muslin sheath, almost sheer enough to see right through, and the cloth was a perfect compliment to her milky skin.

In fact, her clothes were near identical to the clothing of _all_  the men and women standing at the far wall, waiting patiently for their Masters and Mistresses to call upon them again. All of these delicate souls were young, vibrant and beautiful, with sheer clothing and perfect skin that made them look nearly naked compared to the party revelers. All of them wore identical smiles of delight as they watched their Owners dancing and enjoying the party, patiently standing and waiting until they were needed.

In fact, the only differentiation between the Consorts was one, notable accessory that all Masters and Mistresses were required to but their Concubines within their time together, as a sort of calling card to their ownership: a collar. The brighter and more beautiful the collar, the deeper the love felt between Owner and Pet. Angela's collar was incredibly stunning, in comparison to many of the courtesans at the party. The satin was stained a bright, Robin's egg blue, and sewn with white lace and embroidery. At the center, just above the hollow of Angela's throat, was a bright red Ruby that shown in the light, like a beating heart of her Mistress' love.

Peggy's attention was stolen completely away from Steve as she watched her beloved Consort approach. Extending a hand to her, Peggy beamed as Angela took her fingers in her smooth palm, kissing her Mistress' knuckles reverently before taking her seat on a small cushion laid on the floor next to her. "Angela, my beloved. Always so polite and beautiful..."

"Yes, My Mistress. Only for you." Angela beamed, laying her head carefully onto Peggy's lap.

Steve watched the two of them, the pangs of jealousy and longing strangling him until he could barely breathe. He'd long been envious of the bond his wife and her Consort shared, wishing day in and day out that he could have a similar love of his own. However, pride kept his mind set on finding his One good and proper, and to not settle for the next pretty face that he stumbled upon at the local auctions. He inhaled, looking to Peggy with a tired nod. "Peggy, I know you. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I don't  _mind_  paying the taxes. I'd rather find my Pet and have the relationship I want. I don't want to just... Buy a Consort so I can get out of paying the Union every month. It's not right. And I'm not holding dual ownership of Angela. She's your Consort, and you love her. I won't encroach on that."

Peggy met his face, leveling him,with a concerned look before she leaned closer. "Steve... Are you really prepared to do that? To wait this much longer? You can't just keep... Waiting around for the perfect Pet to find you. I can't stand seeing you this upset..."

Steve nodded, watching his wife run her fingers through her Consort's hair. The two of them... Always so in love, ever since he'd met them. A pained smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he stood, plucking his top hat from the table. "I am sure, Peggy. I think I've had enough of this party for the night. Tell the guests it was a pleasure to see them all." Leaning down, Steve pressed a kiss to Peggy's cheek, smiling at her. "Have a good rest of your evening." Murmuring to her beneath the din of the party, Steve left, weaving his way through the crowd. He ignored the well wishes he got from his guests, feeling his cheeks flushing as red as his silk vest. He always did hate being rude to others...

Stepping out onto the cobblestone sidewalk outside the party hall, Steve wrapped his coat around himself to ward off the cold night's air. He'd never really get used to this weather, it seemed. To this day, he still didn't know what possessed him to move from New York to England. Perhaps it had everything to do with his marriage. Perhaps it had been the need of a change of scenery. He didn't know. Still, nearly five years now, and he still could not get used to the chill of the moorish atmosphere.

With a sigh, Steve plucked his ascot from his pocket, tying it expertly around his neck before making his way down the cobblestone path, his shined shoes clicking merrily against the damp surface. He could feel the faint puddles around him, splashing up and soaking the hem of his trousers with each step and chilling him further. He sighed again, ducking his head to evade his gaze from passers' by. Certainly, he did not want to see any more Consorts, that night. All these pressures, of finding a concubine, taxes, responsibilities... It made his head spin.

Steve let his mind drift, thinking back to his childhood back in the States, and allowed himself the luxury to wander as his last night of 29 years old passed him by in a daze...

* * *

  
_There was great shame to be had in not owning a Consort. It was common practice amongst the upper class, after all, and no well-to-do citizen had much to do or say to the individual at a loss these days. If one had money, wealth, or power, it was certain that they had their own concubine to complete their stature. Male or female, if one had the means and the status, one had their very own Courtesan to love and cherish for life._

_Everyone who was anyone, knew that owning a Consort was something to be proud of, rather than the shameful act of buying a good time from the prostitutes_ _that could still be seen prowling the streets from time to time. The practice had been around for eons, really. Once history had recorded the first acts of owning these beautiful young men and women for love and pleasure, fashion and honor took great hold of the practice and never let it go._

_It quickly became standard that men and women who had the means and the wish to buy their Pets, usually came to purchase them by their 30th birthday, as by then, marriages and bank accounts were more readily capable of supporting a lover in the home. If the family was particularly wealthy, it was common to find several Consorts, one per family member, living under the same roof._

_Now, Consorts are never to be confused with Prostitutes, by any means at all. Rather than just doling out the necessary notes and forgetting about the affair the next day, Consorts were treated like Royalty as cherished lovers in the home. They were never required to do manual labor that could damage or scar their delicate skin. They were kept clean and properly groomed at all times, oftentimes sent to bathhouses and spas to be well-taken care of by specialists to properly clean their nails, hair, body hair and kept disease free for their Owners. They were well-fed by the servants of the house. They never wore heavy clothes that could cause them to sweat. And if the family had enough money, Consorts were often accompanied by bodyguards when they could not be with their Owners._

_Unfortunately, while the practice of Courtesan-ship was commonplace, there were many out in the world that desired to steal these beautiful men and women for themselves, or attempt to sell them on the black market to those who would not follow the proper guidelines for caring for a Consort. Regularly, unworthy captors would abuse those that they managed to steal. Then there were those who saw Courtesans as vile creatures that needed to be euthanized. Consort death skyrocketed for many years, young bodies often found in the eddies of rivers and gutters, and most often they were raped and mutilated beyond recognition. While most respected and revered Consorts, there were those that saw them as abominations of sin and depravity and wanted nothing more than to see them dead or sold to the wrong hands, in hopes that the practice would soon be ended._

_Thus was raised the Consort's Global Union. After many were found dead or badly disfigured, the Union was established with strict rules for the Owners to follow religiously. Should the slightest sign of abuse or violation be noted, the Consort would be taken away from the owner, and hefty fines riddled their bank accounts, until they became destitute. If financial ruin was not to be, they were forced to pay the taxes they had avoided in the first place by buying the Consort they cared little for. On the issue of these high taxes, it comes to understand that the trade off of the wealthy having these exotic lovers and life partners was to pay fees into the Union on a monthly basis. While the Union was a notable safety net for Consorts across the globe, their need for funds was high, as most Consorts were incredibly expensive. To house and care for non-purchased Consorts resulted in hefty funds for the well-to-do. The stipulation was, those individuals who did not buy their Consort by their 30th birthday, would then be made to pay taxes into the Union to feed and house these expensive, delicate beings, until such time that they would buy one of their own finally._

_Of course, there seemed to be one man in the world who did not seem to mind in the slightest that his carefully built funds were about to be whittled away at, month by month. Steve Rogers, a famous American soldier turned Captain of the British Army, was 24 years old when he married the beautiful Peggy Carter. It was a marriage of convenience, really, though the two boasted a friendly and platonic relationship that many had grown to admire of the two. Steve's father, Joseph, had made business transactions with the Carter family across the Pond, as he called it, and once the two Investors had struck a deal over property in their countries, their children were betrothed and wed within the month. Peggy had brought into the Roger's family her dowry, and her gorgeous Consort, Angela, who quickly became the envy of every one of their friends. It had readily been agreed between the two that their marriage, while adoring of the other's wishes, would remain sexless. Peggy had eyes only for her Consort, whom she'd own since she was 22 years of age and adored beyond measure. Angela, 18 at the time of her Ownership, had only grown more beautiful as the years passed and blossomed under the care of her Mistress._

_Shortly after their marriage, Steve left New York and traveled with Peggy and Angela to England, where he joined the Army as Captain, served for five years and lead the charge in the Zulu War, returning to England with the colors of victory in his eyes. He retired from the Army shortly after, living off of the wealth of his family and his Officer's pension, to remain well-off for the rest of his days in England._

_Of course, thus rose the concern of when Steve would purchase his Consort. Many had accepted his dismissive explanations that he was too busy commanding an army to worry about buying a Consort at the time. Only Peggy knew the truth, and graciously helped field any suspicions from her husband's character. Steve had never seen the need to hurry and buy a Consort, simply because it was what was expected of him. No, if he wanted a Consort of his own to love and cherish, he wanted the perfect one. And he simply had not found his perfect Pet yet._

_Once Steve had retired from the Army, the questions arose. When would he find his Consort? What would he do if he quickly ran out of funds, paying the high taxes into the Union? Why did he not seem concerned about this?_

_Of course, there was the option that he could register with the Union to simply_ share _Angela with his wife, but he'd_ outright _refused that option when Peggy had suggested it to him. He simply replied that he wouldn't dare interject himself into their relationship and swore he would tend to the taxes that would dwindle away at his own bank account. Peggy may have voiced her concern for Steve's welbeing at that point, but the man was stubborn and simply refused to accept any other fate._

_Thus, came the eve of his 30th birthday, and Steve walked alone, with only his thoughts to accompany him on a surprisingly chilly July night..._

* * *

  
Stepping inside from the cold air, Steve plucked his top hat from his carefully styled blond hair, setting the silk hat on the peg of the coat rack by the door. The pub was rather well-packed that evening, giving the place a warmth that soaked into his bones and brought a small smile to his lips. He quickly raised a hand to the barkeep, signaling for an ale as he made his way to the bar and sat down. He still hadn't bothered to shrug out of his frock coat, only intending to stay for a few drinks and then be on his way home. He wanted to beat his wife there, lest he have to pass by her bedroom and jealously listen to her moans of pleasure she was sure to be giving. Angela seemed in a rather good mood that evening, and a happy Angela usually resulted in multiple orgasms a night.

Still, Steve allowed himself the pleasure of enjoying the atmosphere around him, giving the barkeep a nod as he took the ale stein from her and managed a few mouthfuls of the cool liquid. It burned going down his parched throat, and he coughed, feeling the sting behind his eyes at the bitter hops and grain that made his chest uncomfortably hot with their malty flavor. Still, ale was ale and he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to get a few drinks inside him. Having just left his own birthday party, Steve had been unable to enjoy any alcohol at all, as he had to keep up proper appearances to all the guests, and watch as they got drunk in his stead.

Reaching into his pocket, Steve withdrew his coin purse and pushed a note across the wooden bar top towards the keep, giving her a nod. "Two more when you can, and keep the rest." he murmured. The barkeep knew what he wanted. Steve simply wanted to be left alone with his drink and his thoughts, and to not be bothered by interruption. So she took the note from him, pocketing it and bustling about the tavern, making sure to remember to keep an eye on his glass, should he need a refill soon.

Grateful for her understanding, Steve leaned his elbow against the bartop as he watched the other revelers around him as they boisterously enjoyed their night. Most of these people were lower class and were, thus, exempt from the Consort stigma that people of his own class were expected to follow. However, there were a few higher class individuals in the bar with him, and of course, they had their concubines on their elbow as joyous as ever. Against his own wishes, Steve found himself watching the happy pairings, his eyes lingering in one couple in particular.

The Pet was a pretty brunet boy with brown eyes and freckles across his nose. He looked about 20 years old, and he was happily curled around the arm of his Master, the two nuzzling and laughing together in the night.

Steve sighed, looking the boy over with faint interest. He was wearing the usual muslin blouse and pants of Male Pets, but instead of being barefoot, he wore a pair of thin, leather slippers that protected his feet from the cold cobblestones outside. Around his neck, a bright silver collar could be seen. This one was clearly made of precious metals, signaling that his owner was _incredibly_  well off. The silver was beautiful and carefully carved by hand into intricate designs and inlaid with sapphires. It was obviously the collar of a well-loved Consort, and despite looking slightly cold in his thin clothes, the boy was clearly happy with his Master.

Steve found himself sighing wistfully as he stared at the two of them. He knew he wanted a Pet that would love him just like that... but he'd _been_  to so many auctions and so many shops and just... none of the Pets on display were _right_ for him.

He wasn't against the Consort way of life by any stretch of the imagination. He just... didn't want to have a partnership that seemed shallow and did not have the bond he wished for. He would _rather_  pay the high taxes and wait to find his One Pet, than settle.

Steve was halfway through his third ale, when a heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts. He looked up to see a tall, blond Norwegian man smiling down at him, and he felt his own smile crawl up his lips. "Well, if it isn't Thor Odinsson, back from your travels already!" Steve replied cheerily, standing from his barstool and giving his old friend a hearty handshake. "When did you return to London?"

"Friend Rogers, I was but traveling from visiting a good friend of mine in the Emerald Isle and thought I'd stop by for a few pints. Imagine my surprise to find you here on the eve of your birthday! I do hope you're faring well?" Thor asked, smiling down at his friend. At his right, a petite woman with blond hair stood quietly, her fingers laced with his free hand until her tiny palm were practically engulfed in his large paw. She wore a thin muslin dress, but a long coat over her figure to shield her from the elements outside. From the look of it, she was wearing her Master's coat.

Steve smiled, looking down at Jane and giving her a nod. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Thor. And you, Jane. You are looking beautiful these days." His eyes caught the sight of a silver and red sewn collar around her neck, and he beamed. "You've found her your One collar! It's beautiful, Thor."

Thor beamed, looking down proudly at his concubine and giving her a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. "Aye, indeed. She received her One Collar on the day of our Bonding anniversary just this month."

"That is a perfect day to receive such a gift, Thor. Are those gems opal? That must have been an expensive collar."

Thor shrugged, waving a hand noncommittally. "Money is of no issue when it is our One Collar. But, I see you are alone this evening. Where is your Pet, Steven?" he asked, looking a little concerned at the lack of a concubine on Steve's elbow. "Don't tell me you still haven't found your One yet."

Steve blushed, looking down at the floor a bit. "Indeed. It seems I just have not had the luck I need to find my Pet. None of the Consort's I have seen have been right for me. I suppose I'll just have to keep waiting."

Thor tisked slightly, looking down at his friend. "Then we shall remedy this travesty this night! And I know just the man to help with that!"

At his words, Steve groaned a bit, looking up at his friend. "You don't mean..."

"ANTHONY!" Thor called over the din of the bar. A huge smile crossed his lips as he spotted a man raise his hand over the crowd, signaling that he'd heard. "Ah, there he is! ANTHONY, COME HITHER!"

"All this racket in the bar and you must add your own! You Norwegians, always causing trouble!" Anthony called back, pushing his way through the crowd. Anthony "Tony" Stark, the son of one of London's most prosperous bankers, had grown up knowing not a shred of poverty in his days. Now, older and well off in his own business, the man was often seen wandering the streets of London with his concubine, Pepper, on his arm. Even now, he had the tall, thin woman on his elbow, the two entwined and stuck at the hip as they made their way over to the three of them.

It was common knowledge, that Pepper often kept Tony in check. Although she had grown up in the Consort Union, she was an incredibly intelligent woman, and had excelled beyond the basic reading and writing skills that all Consorts were educated with. She was often seen balancing Tony's coin purse funds and documents herself, making the two of them an inseparable duo in every facet of the man's life.

Steve sighed, putting on a charitable smile for the man as he approached. While he liked Pepper quite a lot, he had a bit of... animosity towards Tony's ethics, and remained civil towards him. "Anthony, Pepper. A good evening to both of you." he said, bowing to Pepper, and giving Tony's hand a gentle shake.

Tony smiled, returning the handshake before releasing his grip and giving Thor a look. 'What is it that you dragged me out of my perfectly good party to bother me with this time?" He asked, clearing his throat when he felt Pepper elbow him slightly in the ribs. He cast her a shrug and a smile, kissing the tip of her nose to settled her annoyance with him, before turning his attention back to the other two.

Thor gestured to Steve, his eyes wide and pleading. "Our dear friend, Steven, here has not found his Consort yet."

Tony rolled his eyes, looking at Steve for a moment before chuckling. "You say this as if it is news. _Everyone in London_  knows that Captain Steven Rogers is still celibate and without his Pet. He may die an old maid and penniless, before he finds his One."

Thor ignored the protesting tone Steve raised. Instead, he held his hand up, giving Tony a smile. "Ah, yes. But would we not be famous across London for _rectifying_  that?" he leaned in. "There is an auction this very evening by the Theater. A very large auction. And from what I have seen of the postings, it is an exotic affair. Consorts from all over the world! Perhaps the only reason Steven has not found his One Pet, is because he has been searching far too locally. Perhaps what Steven needs is a Pet from beyond England's borders!"

The five of them fell silent at Thor's words. Honestly, Steve had not thought of that. He'd only ever gone to the more popular of Consort auctions and sale houses, and most of them had only come from as far as Ireland. None of them had been to his liking, and none he'd interacted with, struck him as his One. Perhaps Thor was onto something.

Tony mused over it, giving Steve a cursory glance before grinning and clapping the two blond men on the shoulders. "Then, I say, what's the harm? It's not _my_  taxes I'll be having to pay if this falls through! Now! Let's be on our way!"

* * *

  
By the time the small group had arrived, the Auction hall was bustling with people shopping the newest income of Consorts from across the globe.Thor had been correct when he'd told the others the selection had been rather large. Teenage men and women from places such as China, Africa, the farther reaches of Europe and Eurasia... they all lined the walls on their silk chaises, wearing the barest of clothing to cover their modesty, while still showing potential buyers the best of their physique and playful, flirty attitudes.

Steve carefully perused the selection of men and women, his eyes scanning each and every one of them with a careful, judgmental eye. Rows upon rows of young men and women at his disposal, and he grew more and more frustrated as he passed them with each moment. Stopping at the end of a particular row of ebony skinned beauties he sighed, plucking his top hat from his head and running his fingers through his blond hair, messing the strands from their carefully styled rest. "This is pointless..." he sighed, more to himself than anyone in particular.

Suddenly, he startled loudly, jumping in his spot when a female voice flowed over him like silk, shaking him from his thoughts. "I see one of my potential customers is feeling a bit.... overwhelmed by my selection?" the voice cooed, tinted with amusement.

Steve turned to see a small woman standing behind him. She had fiery red hair and a stunning physique, dressed in a dark red dress that hugged her figure and billowed out around her feet. Her lips were painted in the same, blood red hue as her dress, and her eyes were hooded and dark. "Oh! Oh, madame, I don't mean to insult you. It's just... I haven't found my One. Even though I'm still searching, I am getting tired of struggling to find the boy. Your selection is stunning nevertheless, I assure you." Steve replied, offering the fiery woman a weak smile and a small bow.

The woman, Lady Natalia, simply smiled back, extending her hand to him. When he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, she canted her head curiously. "Please. Lady Natalia, I do hate the word Madame. And a man of honor and valor you are, Captain. I see, you're looking for your perfect fit... it's been a long time since your journey began, right?" When Steve nodded to her, she smiled. "I do understand. You are not the only one who is picky with his Consort. After all, this is a life-bond. I don't just sell my wares to any man or woman that walks in." Flashing him a knowing smile, Lady Natalia turned away. "Come with me."

Steve frowned, watching as the woman turned her back on him and began to make her way through the crowd. Dropping his hat to the crown of his head again, he followed after her, wondering vaguely, where Tony and Thor had disappeared to. "If I may ask, where exactly are you taking me?"

Lady Natalia looked back, smiling sweetly at him. "I do have one Consort who is very special. I cannot say why. It is simply part of the Contract of buying one: never ask the past of the Consort. I _can_ simply tell you, this particular specimen is free of disease, and is  _stunningly_  gorgeous." She cooed, stopping before a curtain. Placing her hand on the red velvet, she turned back to Steve, offering him a smile. "He is special... only the highest bidding men have come to see him. But you look to be a desperate case. I'll grant you some time to speak to him and see if he is a good fit." Pulling the curtain aside, Lady Natalia leaned in, winking at him. "Do take your time. I will inform your companions where you are."

With that, she disappeared, leaving Steve alone before the now open curtain. He stood still, staring into the room as he plucked his hat from his head. It was all for manner's sake. If this particular Consort was so special he was to be kept far away from the others, then he must command respect from everyone. Swallowing slightly, Steve stepped into the room, pausing,to let his eyes adjust. It was a dark room, filled with plush furniture, dark brown woods, and candles. A fire sat roaring in the corner, warming the room and casting a hearty, orange glow across the elegant furnishing chosen for this special Courtesan.

Steve scanned the room for a moment, his eyes landing on the overtly plush chaise lounge, the many silk pillows and blankets strewn across it, the books... but he found no Consort. Odd. But, just as he turned to call out for Natalia, he saw movement in the corner of the room and he paused. Glancing over, Steve saw a shadow standing in the dark, having just plucked a fresh book from the shelf with a careful hand. He found himself staring as the figure stepped out into the light, and all thoughts of propriety, manners, and basic human language left him at the sight of the concubine.

The figure was a youth, no older than 18 years old. He had olive skin that was perfectly smooth and supple stretched over a willowy figure of muscle and svelte bones. He wore nothing but a nearly shear pair of pants, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide his anatomy beneath, and Steve could seen the teen was well-endowed, with strong legs and a firm backside. But what caught Steve's attention the most was the concubine's face. He had a strong jaw and a dainty nose, full red lips, a dimple in his chin that he wanted nothing more than to kiss and claim as his own, and perfectly baby-smooth features. He had piercing blue eyes that shone in the light of the fire, and a mop of dark brown hair that sat atop his head, tousled and freshly cleaned.

He was the most beautiful Consort Steve had ever seen. This... _this_ was his One. He just knew it.

"Who... who are you?" Steve asked, his voice cracking slightly as he stared at the young man in front of him. All thoughts of proper greeting had left him, his hands hanging limply at his sides as he admired the stunning man in front of him.

The youth simply stared back at him, long and hard, before speaking. When he spoke, the deep and earthy timbre of his voice caught Steve completely off guard and setting him weak at the knees. "Buchanan. They call me Buchanan." he replied, uttering those short words in an accent Steve did not recognize, before falling completely silent again.

Steve stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide and dilated. Already, he could feel the stirrings of attraction in the pit of his stomach, and he inhaled sharply, trying to quell the feelings from overtaking him. This Consort was not purchased yet. If he so much as laid a finger on him before he'd even made a bid, he'd be barred from purchasing a Consort forever. Not to mention, he'd never forgive himself for approaching and manhandling another human being against his will, no matter how beautiful he thought he was. He wouldn't dare disrespect the Consort, nor miss out on the chance to claim Buchanan as his own. "Buchanan. It's a nice name. Where do you come from?"

Buchanan stared at him, his eyes dim and narrowed. After a moment, he must have deemed Steve worthy of an answer. He simply crossed the room, lounging on the chaise with his book and curling up like a cat with his legs tucked beneath himself and ankles crossed as he curled up with his novel. "Minsk." He replied simply, and turned his attention away from Steve.

Steve watched the Consort for a moment, feeling a bit.. confused. He knew the process of buying. When a Consort was approached they turned all attention to the potential bidder to try and win them over and better their chances of being bought. Buchanan seemed completely disinterested in him and negligent of his very presence in the room. He wasn't sure if he should be infuriated by that or hurt. "I see. And you traveled all the way to England to be purchased. I take it the bidding in Russia was no good."

"Yes. They were not good fit."

Steve stared at him, his smile lightening a bit. Ah, he understood. Buchanan was just being coy. He did, after all, seem rather expensive, to be treated so differently from the others. "Well..." he murmured, taking a seat next to the chaise lounge. Respectfully, he kept his distance so that no one could mistake his behavior for anything untoward. On the contrary, Steve wanted nothing more than to fairly bid everything he had to win this Russian Star for himself. "You may not have to worry about being overlooked here. Someone will buy you and make you their One."

Buchanan smirked, looking over at Steve before leaning close to him. "And I will guess.. you might be the man?" he murmured, his tone dropping into a warm register and he cast him a honeyed smile that sent chills running up at down Steven's spine. The teasing look... The _hungry_ stare. Her never felt so exposed to another human being. But with that one look, Steve felt himself falling for the teen faster than he could have ever imagined.

Then Buchanan broke the spell, his tone taking on a cooler pitch. "I think... you may be old, desperate man... to be bidding so much for Pet."

Steven balked, looking at the Consort for a moment as Buchanan resumed reading his book. "Why? What is your starting bid?"

Buchanan paused and looked up from his book. He let his eyes roam over the man before him, tempting him with Crystal blue gems of light and want. "20,000."

Steven choked, staring at the Consort for a moment before he felt the color drain from his face. Even with a starting bid, that could drain his bank account. And there were _many_ , far wealthier bidders than himself at the auction. Feeling his heart sink, Steve looked down at the chaise lounge, allowing the youth some privacy, before he rose from his seat and offered the young man a bow. Then, chancing his luck, Steve reached out and took Buchanan's hand in his. He raised the brunet's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the backs of his knuckles to bid him a fond goodbye. "Well... thank you for your time, Buchanan. You are a beautiful Consort... if only we were meant to be." Without saying another word, Steve turned and left Buchanan behind, closing the curtain behind him. He was so disheartened by the sheer lack of funds it would take to purchase his One, he failed to see Buchanan rise from his seat and watch the blond go with wide, pleading eyes.

As he made his way from the room, he saw Thor and Tony across the auction hall, and he smiled weakly at them. Waving a hand, he caught their attention as he made his way through the crowd.

"My good man! Have you found a Consort you could call your own?" Thor asked, clapping Steve on the shoulder heavily.

Steve stumbled, looking up at him before shrugging the same shoulder. "I thought so... but he is... a special case, it seems. Anyways, he's beyond out of my price range, unfortunately."

"A price range, he says!" Tony snorted, looking at his companion. "The man who is going to remain chaste for the rest of his life because he refuses any other Consort, is turning down his chance with his One, because of his _price range_? Tell me, how much was he?"

"His starting bid was £20,000."

Both Thor and Tony looked at each other for a moment, their eyes wide. Steve knew for a fact that neither of their Consorts had been nearly as much money. Sure, perhaps at their highest bid, but to _start_? Clearly, the lad must have been special.

"That is, indeed a pity," Thor sighed, giving his friend a small smile. "My deepest apologies, Steven. Perhaps you may find another just like him."

Steve simply shrugged, resigning himself to paying the necessary taxes that would consume his bank funds come morning. "I suppose in the future... yes, that may happen."

Tony waved his hand, turning away from them to the main stage of the auction hall. "Anyway! The night isn't over yet. Let's watch the auction, perhaps you may see a Consort cross the stage that catches your eye." Taking a seat near the back of the audience, Tony looked up at Steve, jovially patting the seat next to him. "They're starting!"

Without much say in the matter, Steve and Thor sat down on either side of Tony, the two of them watching as the Auctioneer took the stage and greeted the bidders.

The first few Consorts to pass the stage were bought out rather quickly. Steve surveyed the young men and women as they passed with a bored look, waving them off without a second look. Each one, he saw Tony and Thor look to him expectantly, only to disappoint them both when Steve would ignore the youths outright. It seemed it would be a long night after all.

Finally, just after 2 am, the final Consort was brought out to the stage. Buchanan was lead out by two Union guards, and instantly, the crowd became infatuated by him. Many men and women whom had already purchased their Consorts, looked on in envy at the man they _could_  have had, while those who'd not made a purchase yet, surveyed the last Consort with lecherous intent.

God, now in the proper lighting, Steve could see Buchanan more clearly, and he was even more beautiful than he'd been in the dimly lit lounge. Instantly, he sat forward in his seat, staring at Buchanan with utter attraction painted across his features and a small smile danced at the corners of his mouth. He sadly mused to himself that if this was to be the last time he'd see Buchanan, he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

He was so enraptured by his viewing, he did not see Thor and Tony staring at him with awe, the two nodding to each other as they finally understood. If Steve did not buy this Consort, he'd never have one in his life. He _would_  die an old, chaste maid just as Tony predicted... The poor man.

All too soon, the bidding began, people throwing her allotted prices out every few moments. As the pounds climbed, Steve felt his heart sinking lower and lower into his chest. Someone luckier than he would get to keep Buchanan as their One for life and he was going to witness that crime with his own eyes... What a horrible way to end his birthday.

An old woman, it seemed, was to be the lucky winner of the gorgeous creature. As the bids slowed, they paused on the bid of the obviously much older Dame, her voice frail as she stared at the teen standing on the stage with a hungry gaze. Her pledge of £45,000 lingered for a moment, scaring the remainder of the bidders away. 45,000... Steve could not even begin to fathom how an old woman like her could possibly afford £45,000 for a Consort in her final years. He jealously stared at the lady, his eyes boring into the back of her head. He hoped she'd have a fit and pass right there in her spot, if he were hoping for his way. But he was a gentleman after all... he only wished it, silently.

But before the Auctioneer could claim the old Dame as winner, a _very_ familiar voice piped up, making Steve's heart leap into his throat in distress and betrayal.

"£50,000!" Tony suddenly shouted, standing from his seat and giving the Auctioneer a bright smile. The entire audience turned to stare at the man, stunned. Some knew Tony well, and questioned why he was buying a second Consort, while others just couldn't fathom how anyone could possibly afford more than £45,000 with such flippancy?

Steve felt his heart rattling angrily in betrayal and he glared openly at Tony. His gaze grew heated and vicious as he stood abruptly from his seat and stormed from the room. How dare he!? How _dare_  Tony purchase the _only Consort_  Steve had ever believed he could love, right from under his feet. Where was the honor and respect in that?! Steve half anticipated walking home and forgetting this whole damn night...

But no. He had principles, Dammit, and respect scorned like that couldn't be forgotten. He would confront Tony for the slight against him, even if financially he'd never had a chance. He'd wait. He'd confront him. Steve had all night.

So Steve waited outside the auction house, his hat cocked angrily on his head and arms crossed over his chest as he watched the Auction goers file out. One by one they dispersed into the cold, dirty roads of London's streets at the wee hours of the morning; some with their prizes on their arms and some sorely disappointed.

After a time, Steve saw the familiar blond head of Thor approaching, and he tensed. Thor had Jane on his arm, the two smiling and laughing as they lead Tony, Pepper and the newly purchased Consort out of the auction house and into the cold street. Buchanan looked absolutely tired, his eyes drooping as he plodded along behind Tony and Pepper to tail off the group.

Steve was  _l_ _ivid_! Tony had had the nerve to buy Buchanan _right_ in front of him, and he didn't even have the courtesy of guiding the exhausted Consort out by the arm?! That was it.

Steve marched right up to Tony, his mouth opening to begin an angry tirade at his companion. Instead of a fight, however, he was silenced by a contract being shoved into his hands. Looking down at the parchment, he saw that the form was nearly filled out... it just lacked a name and signature on it. So... Tony hadn't signed it? "... What is the meaning of this? You couldn't even be bothered to lead the boy out? And what is this, giving me your contract?" He asked, looking up at Tony.

Tony chuckled, patting Steve on the back before pushing him towards Buchanan. "You left in such a fury, I didn't get the chance to tell you to come with me to the Auctioneer's office. So, naturally, they gave me your contract to deliver to you. As for why I did not escort the boy out, I dare not touch another man's Pet, Steve. You know it's bad manners." Tony paused, watching as the cogs of realization turned in Steve's head; his reveal made the blond pale as he stared at Buchanan with all the shock in the world painted across his features. Tony leaned in, whispering into Steve's ear. "Happy Birthday, Captain."

He couldn't answer. Steve simply stared at the contract in his hands, the quiet Consort at his left and the chilly London air making them both shiver. He looked up in time to see Tony and Thor take their leave for the night, the two of them leading their sleepy Consorts home for the evening. Steve swallowed, unable to fully process what had happened, before he found his gaze turning back to Buchanan. "I.... I..."

Buchanan simply chuckled, leaning casually into his new Master's side for warmth. "As I knew... Desperate, old man."

* * *

Notes:

First of all, I did my best I could with math to try and convert American dollars to pounds, PLUS trying to reverse the amount of inflation between now and 1880, so if my math is SORELY wrong, someone tell me please! From what I did mathematically, however, £ 57,000 is roughly about 2 million American dollars this day and age. IF My math is correct. I really hope it is, and if it's not, someone who's better at that whole numbers thing than me let me know please!!!!

 

Some photos:

Steeb's clothes in London! :D (well, pretty close to what they'd be lol)

That's actually REALLY close to how Steve would groom himself in that time period, so I'll keep this! :D 

BEFORE ANYONE SAYS ANYTHING, I KNOW THIS IS A GIRL'S BODY. I just chose the picture to show you what style of pants Buchanan was wearing when Steven met him. Muslin is REALLY thin and flowy, and not very warm, but it shows ALL kinds of pretty assets off when in the right light, and the cut is very comfortable. There you go lol

 

And BABY BUCKY FACE:

 

I will be going back later to make edits to this chapter. I just really wanted to spit this out while i was thinking about it, and yeah... 7000 words later... phew! 

 

SMUT TO COME IN THE NEXT CHAPTER BELIEVE IT OR NOT. I WONT MAKE YOU PEOPLE WAIT LONG!

 

 


	2. Consummate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes Buchanan home for the first time after the auction, and Buchanan finds himself stunned to see his Master caring for him so thoroughly. Buchanan chooses to test the limits of his new Master, while Steve discovers his Consort may be hiding something from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after talking with my editor for awhile, I decided to make some changes to this story. They aren't major changes, mostly with peggy's behavior, Sam's position, and i lightened the vernacular and made it a little more modern, to make it easier to read. My editor,pointed out to me that I was drifting farther away from the Steve Rogers and Bucky we all came to love, and I didn't want to risk turning this into an original story. hopefully the new changes work!!!
> 
> First chapter of sex in the long list of sex chapters to come. Ive written porn before, multiple times. Ive never written it to this degree. I figured, "You know what? This is a concubine story. I better go in guns blazing. *cracks knuckles* BREAK OUT THE BIG SMUT."
> 
> My fingers hurt now and you all might need a cool shower. And this is just practice to come for the bdsm that will be written in later chapters. Phew. This is so going to be a doozy to write.
> 
> NSFW GIFS AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER. EXAMINE AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU SMUTTY SMUTTERS. :D :D :D

This was a dream. It was the only rational explanation Steve had to this whole ordeal. Just hours ago, he was dreading the morning come, the tax collectors that would come knocking to his door and demanding his tithing for the Consort Union.

Just hours ago, he was single without any idea what it was he was supposed to do in the wake of his celibacy. Then Tony had gone and thrown him entirely into disarray, confusion, and most of all, _relief_. What he'd initially thought to be a slight and an insult against his financial standings in the face of the one Consort he could love, had turned out to be nothing more than good will masked by ignorance. Now... now Steve found himself with a Consort on his arm and a debt to pay to his companion.

But he _had a Consort_. The only one he'd possibly felt could be the one for him.

Blinking owlishly, Steve stared down at the concubine on his arm, the teen leaning rather heavily against his side to ward off the chill of the night air. He found himself staring in awe at the beautiful features, tinged pink against the sting of the cold, his head lolling against his shoulder, and his limbs quaking as he huddled in on himself.

 _God_ , Buchanan was beautiful.

Steve felt his heart shattering into a million pieces. He fell headlong in utter love for this small human being on his arm, and a wildly eager smile crossed his lips. He quickly pocketed the contract Tony had given him, folding the parchment into sections before stuffing the thick paper into his trousers' pocket for protection. With that, he carefully extracted his arm from Buchanan's grip, shrugging out of his frock coat and draping it around the youth's shoulders to ward off the cold. Jesus, it was cold! How could he ever have complained about being cold, when his precious Consort stood in nothing but linens in the frigid English air, his feet bare save for the thin slippers he wore. Hell, he'd even been escorted from the building without a shirt on! Buchanan was in his care now, and Steve would be damned he ever let him feel discomfort ever again. "Come with me... this old, desperate man is going to take you home now." He murmured, smiling down at the youth as he wrapped his arm around the slim shoulders and held him close.

Buchanan paused, his eyes widening as he felt the heavy weight of the wool coat being wrapped around him. He glanced up at his new Master, mouth dropping open as if to speak up. But he remained silent, giving his Master a bewildered look as if he'd never been offered such a comfort before in his life. The weight of the wool coat enveloped the Consort fully and he huddled into the warmth without complaint. Steve was much larger in stature than he, and the coat offered a significant shroud of protection against the chilly London elements. The musky smell of Steve's cologne lingered on the coat like a comforting aura, and Buchanan sniffed the collar in contentment, soaking up his Master's scent for the first time. "Thank you..." he murmured, falling silent once again as he burrowed back into the protection of Steve's arms.

Steve smiled, watching the brunet curl into his side and cease talking. It seemed somewhat strange to him that Buchanan had chosen to hold his tongue so efficiently. Between meeting him in his lounge and now, Buchanan had barely spoken full sentences to him. He didn't think much of it, however. The late hour, the long day of preparing for the auction, his travels from a far off land... he was sure Buchanan was simply too tired to speak and wished nothing more than to be taken home and put to bed. He had all the time in the world to bond with this boy. Talk could wait.

However, just as he'd turned to lead him home, a throat cleared behind the both of them. Steve turned, spying the fair lady who had run the auction that night, smiling down at them from the top of the staircase. "Oh Captain. I do believe you may have forgotten something." Natalia murmured. A playful smiled danced at the corners of her mouth as she watched the newly bonded couple, fondly. At the confused look she received, Natalia giggled, withdrawing her hand from behind her back and held her gift aloft. From the tips of her fingers, an elegant black collar dangled, the silk shining in the low light. The collar was nothing more than a strip of the fine cloth, adorned with thin black ties that could secure the cloth around the boy's neck. She waved the collar at the Captain, nodding to him as she held it out. "I do believe you might need this. After all, you wouldn't want to go out in public with him, unmarked and unclaimed, yes?"

Steve blushed, nodding as he released the boy from his grip. He ascended the stairs, smiling thankfully to her as he took the collar from her grip. The cloth felt like warm butter in his hands, smooth and fluid as he ran his fingertips over the fabric in tender strokes. Even for a beginner's collar, the silk was stunningly gorgeous, and he found himself enraptured by the deep obsidian hue of the fabric. "Thank you, Lady Natalia. How could I forget?" he murmured, looking up at her in thanks.

She simply smiled back, patting the man on the shoulder before turning away. "All first-time Masters must remember to keep this collar on at all times. It is your mark until you claim your very own One Collar, Steven. Do not forget that. However, I will forgive you the mistake, considering the night has been rather surprising. Your companions did well to keep my interest as they spoke with me earlier about your plight. I knew Anthony would be the one to make the purchase, all along. He seemed rather adamant to ensure that you didn't... how did he put it... 'die an old spinster with no lover to quell your thirst'." She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I made absolutely sure to have Buchanan presented very last, just for you..." As she turned away to enter the auction house again, the lady laughed. "You have good friends, Captain Rogers. Do take this as a birthday present from us all." She stepped inside, winking over her shoulder at him. "Have a good first night, Steven..."

Steve watched the woman close the door, separating the two of them to the cold night. Now, alone with his Consort, Steve looked back to find the youth standing alone on the cobbled path, shivering against the cold that soaked into his bones from the ground. A sadness filled him at the sight, and he instantly descended the staircase, wrapping his arms around him. Steve ran his hands along the boy's arms in the coat, warming his skin with a gentle touch. When he felt the shivers abating slightly, Steve leaned back, smiling down at his Consort with delight. He took that moment to unravel the collar from his palm, holding it up to his concubine with a tender look. As if on command, he found himself enraptured to find Buchanan raise his head, baring his throat to him in an offering of smooth skin and a swan-like arch of his throat. His breath caught in his chest; Steve gently wrapped the collar around his Courtesan's throat, tying the petite bows into the dual threads that would secure his collar to him and binding him to his possession forever. When the strands were tied, Steve took great care to run his fingers along the silken cloth. He smoothed out the wrinkles as it formed perfectly to Buchanan's throat, sealing the deal that made them One. "So beautiful... Let's go home."

Buchanan did not reply. Instead, he curled back into the warm cocoon of the older man's touch, his head leaning against the strong shoulder of the larger man. He pillowed his ear on the muscle of his shoulder, looking up at him with a tired little half-smile that barely covered the rouge of the chilly air. He went quietly as the man pulled him along, the two of them making their way down the sidewalk, side by side, to the nearest coach and driver. As they walked, the brunet found his eyes wandering a bit, taking in the sights of London for the first time beyond the threshold of the auction house. Very few people were out at this late hour, and those that were looked on at Master and Consort as they passed. The looks were of jealousy, of interest, and even of desire. What a beautiful couple the two made, walking side by side as the light of the street lamps caught on the black cloth, proclaiming to the world that Buchanan was possessed thoroughly by the strong, handsome Captain. The tired smile that adorned his features melted as the youth yawned, pressing his face to Steve's pectoral, inhaling his essence and imprinting on his Master.

Steve had never felt so happy in his life. The feel of Buchanan curling into his side, soaking up his affection so quickly... it made his heart skip beats in his chest until he was light-headed with joy. As he walked, he pushed his top hat further back onto the crown of his head, allowing him to bend and press a kiss to the teen's near-raven hair. The light smell of perfume and oils caught in his nose and he found himself intoxicated with the sweet smell of his concubine and soaking him in until he was thoroughly drunk on his presence. "When we get home, we must warm you back up. We wouldn't want you to get sick, now would we?" He asked, beaming down at him as he helped the boy into the carriage for their ride home. Still, Buchanan did not speak. His smile faltered a bit. Perhaps Buchanan was more exhausted than he'd thought...

The carriage ride was long, and by the time the coach had arrived on the road that would lead them home, they were both chilled by the misty air that soaked into their clothes. Steve's eyes alighted on the lamp outside his house and he smiled, giving Buchanan's shoulder a gentle squeeze before paying the coach driver for their transport. He thought of scooping the boy into his arms and carrying him the rest of the way home. However, he knew Buchanan commanded a sort of dignity no other Consort had possessed. Even now, he walked with proud steps, keeping pace with the Captain despite his exhaustion. Despite wishing to tend to his every whim, Steve resisted the temptation to pick him up. It was only just down the lane... they could make it.

Puddles splashed about them in the mud of the dirty street, soaking into their feet as they finally found the path that would lead them inside. The stone walk beneath their feet was a welcome change from plodding through the dirt for so long, and the two climbed the stairs to their home together. Steve let them both in with a satisfied smile, relishing the feel of warm air against his skin as they finally entered the home together. Once the door was locked behind them, Steve turned to his Consort and carefully peeled the damp wool coat from his shoulders, examining his boy with a careful eye in the candlelit foyer. Buchanan's shoulders were flecked with gooseflesh, the skin slightly pink. Steve couldn't tell if it was from the cold, or from the fabric of his coat. It had to be the cold... the silk lining of his coat had just freshly been replaced just two weeks ago. "How are you feeling? Do you wish me to summon Darcy to fix you a bath?" He asked, plucking his hat from his head and setting it on the coat rack with a careful hand.

Buchanan paused, considering the offer for a moment, before shaking his head. "No. I do not require of such assistant, Master." Buchanan murmured, looking up at him. Steve smiled, listening to the boy speak. He found it incredibly endearing, the way Buchanan still put great effort into speaking English. He could teach him properly. He had all the time in the world, after all.

"Very well then." Steve replied, wrapping his arm around the boy's waist. "At least allow me to take you to my room and clean the mud from you." he murmured. Looking down at the boy's feet, he could see the splatter of dirt and rain water staining his slippers and his skin, the hem of his muslin pants darkened by the dirt. "Here. Let me have these cleaned for you." Dropping down to his knee, Steve carefully guided Buchanan to sit on the bench. He plucked the dirty slippers from Buchanan's cold feet, setting them at the door for the morning and immediately turned his attention back to his concubine. As he knelt, he carefully ran his hands up and down his legs, feeling the cold muscles tensing under his touch as he worked the warmth back into his limbs. When he looked up, he found himself surprised to find Buchanan staring at him in shock, as if he'd not expected his Master to do something as subservient as massaging his cold legs to work the blood back into them. How strange... is this not how all Masters were supposed to treat their Pets? "Is something wrong, Buchanan?" He asked, frowning a little at his confusion.

Before Buchanan could summon a reply, however, a voice caught their attention, and they both looked up. "Steven! Out so late again, I see! I better not be forced to tell your wife where it is you might have run off to!" In the doorway of the foyer, a tall, dark-skinned man with a handsome face smiled at the two of them. On his hip, he had a satchel of textbooks and papers, his lean torso decked in a  dark suit with a gray vest. When he smiled, a small space showed between his front teeth, giving him an impossibly friendly appearance as he approached the two of them. "Oh, but what has the cat dragged in!?" Sam exclaimed, taking a closer look at the boy in front of his friend. He spied the black collar around the youth's neck, and a laugh left him. "Ah, but this is a happy day indeed! Captain Steven Rogers finally found himself a Consort! Now I won't be the talk of the tavern as your closest and most responsible friend! Praise the heavens!"

Steve beamed, getting to his feet and approaching Sam. He pulled the man into a one-armed hug, clapping him on the shoulder. It may have been an odd kinship, but Steve wouldn't have it any other way. He and Sam had grown together since they were wee ones, best friends as boys destined to be friends on the battlefield as two of the Military's finest. When Steve had married and moved to England, he had sent straight away for Sam to join him, and the two reconnected in London a few short weeks later.

Even now, their friendship remained true, and the two remained as close as they had been when they were children. "Sam! Indeed, I have just found my One, just an hour ago! I would have returned at a more respectable time but circumstance saw to it that I find myself in the Old Theater Auction house instead." Beaming down at his Consort, Steve held his hand out to him, watching in delight as Buchanan tentatively took his hand and rose from his seat. "Sam... Meet Buchanan. He traveled all the way from Minsk to London. It seems timing is really everything, isn't it?"

Sam laughed, putting satchel down onto the floor. He then extended his hand to him to greet his friend's new lover into the home. "I am sorry for my behavior, Buchanan. It's just that Steve here has been searching for his One for the longest time, now, and we all thought he'd never find you. It's an honor to meet you at long last." When he released his grip, he found himself met with a shy smile and a nod from the teen, Buchanan's posture impeccably perfect as he regarded his Master's friend with respect. "Ah, he's a polite one, isn't he? Does he speak? How old is he?"

"Buchanan has just turned 18, Sam. A brave young man is he to have traveled so far to come to England. And yes, he does speak. His English is not as refined, but he is very smart." Steve replied fondly, tugging the lad into his side. Buchanan went willingly, letting the taller man envelope him in his arms once again. "I do apologize if we must cut our discussion short, Sam. Buchanan's had a long day, and he must get some sleep."

"Oh, now! Don't you let me keep you both awake! I heard movement by the door and just wanted to check up and see if it was another one of those damn peddlers."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "No peddlers I am sorry to say, Sam."

"No, nothing but mischief coming from you, Steven." Sam teased, watching as the teen surveyed the foyer they were in with a faint interest. Sam's posture softened a little, and his smile became wistful as he looked up at his friend again. "I truly am happy to see that you've found your One, Steve. We were all getting to be a bit worried about you. You just weren't happy, these days. Now... now I see that real smile you haven't worn since before you went off to fight in Africa and left me to tend to the Old Doctor's medical records alone!" He sighed, watching the Consort with a wistful nod. "Must be nice, to have one of your very own Pets."

Steve nodded, giving his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze. He felt a touch shameful that he didn't have the courage in him to admit that he actually hadn't made the purchase. Still, Steve knew he would be repaying Tony as readily as possible, despite whatever protests he might put up. But the honor of being the one to lay down the cheque had not been his, and it was too late in the evening to explain the details now. Instead, he just smiled, gazing down at his Pet with all the affection in the world dancing in his blue eyes. "Indeed. And when you finally build that Soldier's Medical clinic of yours, you'll have your own someday."

Sam chuckled, waving his hand. "Ah, don't go planting those false hopes in my head, Steve! It's a long way away still." He did pause, however, looking a little thoughtful. "Anyhow, I do only hope that mine will be as stunning as yours someday."

Steve chuckled, giving Sam's shoulder one last pat before pulling away. "And your Consort will most certainly be beautiful! Have faith, Sam." Nodding to him, Steve wrapped his hand around Buchanan's waist, tugging him from his daydream and towards the entrance of the foyer. "With that, we must go to sleep Sam. Have a good night."

"Sleep well! Or don't. Whichever befits you both!" Sam replied, winking at his friend before disappearing from the foyer with his satchel in tow.

Left to themselves, Steve guided Buchanan from the foyer into the house, the two of them slipping through the darkened rooms as they made for the staircase. "I'm sorry if Sam's presence may have surprised you. He's a very interesting fellow, and friendlier than you could ever imagine. I think you'll grow to like him. He shares the house with us."

Buchanan nodded, his eyes still averted from his Master as he surveyed the various paintings and art pieces in the home. "He seem... to like you very much. You are two friends, no?"

"Yes. Sam and I grew up together in New York. His mother was my parent's dearest companion, and they shared a very similar friendship. When my mother gave birth to me, Sam became my playmate as we grew. We remained close, even when we both joined the American Army, and I requested he move to London with me, when I left New York."

"I see. And he... wishes to buy Consort?"

Steve nodded, guiding Buchanan up the stairs, his hand never leaving the boy's hip. "Someday, yes... When he can afford it."

The two of them fell silent as they climbed the stairs. Once they reached the top of the staircase, they made their way quietly down the hallway together. They passed a grand bedroom, the door ornately carved from lush, black wood. From the look of it, the door was locked from the inside, and Buchanan paused, looking up at his Master as if to ask 'Is this your room?'

"Ah. No, that would be my wife, Peggy's suites." Steve replied, lacing his fingers with the boy's and tugging him along. "We long ago separated into our own bedrooms. Peggy has her own Consort, Angela. You'll meet her in the morning. Anyway, the two are much happier together in their own suites than I could ever expect them to be apart. That's all I care about."

Buchanan started, looking up at his Master with wide eyes. "You do not sleep with wife?" he asked, sounding a little awed and relieved by this notion.

Steve paused, looking down at him with a blink. The relieved tone in Buchanan's voice gave him pause, but he simply offered up a nod. "Yes. We decided this long before you came along, Buchanan. Don't worry that it had anything to do with you."

They made their way down the long hallway to the far bedroom door. This door was much larger, and it stood open to reveal an even more grand suite inside. Steve led his Consort inside, closing and locking the door behind them both. Once they were safely sealed within, he turned back to his concubine, giving him a loving look as he reached out to caress the silk collar around his throat. "These are our rooms, Buchanan. You may do as you want in them." Beaming down at him, he tugged the boy further into the room, leading him to the bed. "And this is our bed. If you find the sheets to be too coarse against your skin, please tell me. I do have a stock of silk sheets that we keep in storage for guests, but for you, I will have my maids fit the bed with them if you like."

He guided the boy to sit on the bed, looking down at his dirty feet and surveying them a moment. The mud had long since caked to his feet and ankles, reaching up his calves from splashing through the mud, until his fair skin was tainted by the crusty dirt. "Wait here. I will get a wash basin and clean you up." Turning away from him, Steve stepped into the adjoining bathroom. He grabbed a bowl from beneath the cabinet, filling it with water from the copper tub, and fetching a towel from the cabinet. Laden with his things, he returned to the bedroom where he saw Buchanan waiting patiently, glancing at the beautiful decorations of the room with a careful interest. "Do you like the paintings?" he asked, dropping down to his knees and soaking the rag in the water. He rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows, carefully tucking the white fabric into itself so as not to soak it in the water unnecessarily. With that, he pushed the legs of the dirty muslin pants up his Consort's calves until they bunched around his knees, baring his lower legs to him. "Lift your foot please."

Buchanan did as he was told, watching Steve as the man set his foot in the lukewarm water and began to wash the mud from his skin. The touches were gentle and reverent, and Buchanan looked stunned into silence as he watched his Master clean his feet for him. "Why do you clean me? Why do you not have maids do it for you?" he asked, his tone quiet, almost shy. His hands lay in his lap, folded obediently as he felt the soft towel run along his leg, wiping away the dirt until the water in the bowl began to turn brown. His brows knitted together in confusion as he surveyed his Master work, tending to him as a commoner on one knee.

Steve paused, taken aback by the curious statement. He looked up at his Consort, frowning a bit before finding the will to speak. "It is what all Masters and Mistresses do. We take care of our Pets. I may not have had one of my own, but it is the way of all of us. My mother and father tended to their Consort in the same way. Peggy tends to Angela in the same way. And I will do the same for you. You are my Pet, and I will care for and love you as you deserve."

Buchanan didn't respond. Instead, he watched his Master work diligently, cleaning his skin until the cool touch of water brought a chill to his skin and he shivered. He looked away from him, reaching up and touching the silk collar around his neck. He found himself enraptured by the soft touch against his fingertips, and a gentle wave of comfort washed over him. The boy closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Steve's hands on his calf, working the muscles out of their tension, before setting his foot down on the floor and repeating the process with his left foot.

The minutes crept by for both of them, the two sitting together in total silence broken only by the splashing of water in the basin. When the last of the dirt was washed away from Buchanan's feet, Steve leaned back on his heels, surveying his work. Once again, Buchanan's skin was perfection, not a drop of mud left on his skin. The pants may have been ruined, but he would make sure to deliver them to his maid in the morning. If anyone could get stains out of clothing, it was Darcy. Besides, the white cloth was too beautiful to throw away. Buchanan could wear a pair of his silk pajama pants until they were cleaned.

"There we go. All cleaned up." he murmured, smiling up at his Consort. He noticed the boy had looked away from him, staring at the far wall with a blank expression on his face. His smile fell once again, and he found himself reaching up to touch the boy's cheek. "If you are tired... sleep, Buchanan. There's no need for you to stay awake longer than you need to." Steve moved to rise to his feet and fetch those pajama pants, his fingers still lingering on the boy's skin. God save him, but he couldn't stop touching this perfect angel. He really had to thank whatever spirit above had decided to grant him such a beautiful Pet to have as his very own. The stirrings of lust began to build in his blood again, sending his stomach fluttering with want and his limbs trembling with desire. He stared at Buchanan for a long moment, his eyes taking in the perfect profile, the smooth skin, and the pouty lips with desire. Desire that, he knew, should wait until he had had rest.

 Clearing his throat, Steve looked away, his fingers withdrawing from the boy's cheek as he shifted on his feet. "Allow me to fetch you clean clothes, Buchanan. I will return in a moment." he murmured, hearing his voice crack as he fought to keep his desires in check.

However, it seemed that the Consort had other plans in mind. Instantly, his hand shot out, grabbing Steve's wrist and dragging his hand back in. Steve gasped loudly as the young man drew his palm back towards himself, pressing kisses all along the faintly rough skin. Buchanan sighed in content, letting his full lips linger on each digit as he worked his hand over. Both hands cupped the blond's wrist, holding him close as he dragged his lower lip along the line of Steve's index finger. Then, without warning, Buchanan opened his mouth, drawing his finger into his mouth and suckling the digit, letting his tongue lave over the skin in swirling strokes. He bobbed his head in gentle motion, looking up at his Master with large, blue eyes through the curtain of his lashes. He hollowed his cheeks out around the finger, sucking and mouthing along the length before he pulled back with a gentle pop. As he pulled away, the brunet hesitated a moment, letting his tongue dart out and lave at the tips of Steve's fingers, until he'd teased the man into a frenzy. Buchanan breathed warm air against the wet finger, grazing his teeth along the tip before he began to kiss a languid trail up the man's palm, tickling the over-sensitive skin as he made his way to his wrist, and finally his forearm. Never once did his grip loosen on the man's arm as he made love to his hand, drawing him in with large eyes burning hot with lust.

Steve stared in open awe, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Instantly, the desires he'd been fighting all night sprang up in him like a flickering flame stoked to life. He could feel himself hardening in his trousers and he swallowed audibly, struggling to stop the shame that wanted to spring up in him for becoming so aroused so quickly. He was 30 years old, he wasn't dead for God's sake. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little silly at being turned on so quickly by this cheeky teen's actions. Those fingers, digging into his arm, felt like lava, and he found himself squirming with desire where he stood. He wanted nothing more than to push the boy to the bed, pin him down and ravage him until the Consort was screaming himself hoarse. The more he thought about it, the more he stared down at the teen suckling bruises into his flesh, the harder he grew until his cock throbbed painfully, waiting to seek out release in the supple body before him. "Buchanan... I..."

"Shh..." the boy whispered, standing and pressing his finger to his Master's lips. Buchanan watched as Steve mouthed at the finger pressed to his lips, slipping his tongue free to lick and sample the teen's unique flavor. Buchanan shivered at the sight of his Master playing along so sweetly, laving at his index finger until the Consort's finger was damp with his saliva. Unable to hide behind his tempting exterior any longer, Buchanan allowed himself to fall head first in love his Master. He leaned up, replacing his finger with his own lips, drawing the older man into a delicious kiss. The caress was needy and plundering; the boy prodded his way into the man's mouth with his tongue until he'd claimed Steve in a nipping touch, tongues battling each other for dominance. Buchanan kissed him, pressing himself into a firm line against the blond's front until he undulated his hips in a gentle wave to his Master's body, drawing out an unhindered moan of bliss from Steve. His hardness could be felt through the thin sheath of his pants, lining up along Steve's thigh, and the boy gently rocked against his leg, rubbing himself against him as he sought out his pleasure. The Consort finally released the man's arm, his fingers finding their way to the red silk waistcoat and deftly undoing each button. Never once did he break the kiss, his fingers working the silver buttons free before the silk lay open, baring the shirt beneath. He then worked each tiny white button open from the white cloth, inch by inch baring the smooth skin of his Master's chest to the cool air around them.

Steve was helpless to act, caught up in the whirlwind that was his Consort. Years of celibacy had rendered him completely mindless at the sudden influx of such desires. He could only press his hands to the boy's waist, pulling him flush to his front as the boy undid his shirt, baring his skin to him. He felt fingers crawling up his chest, pushing the cloth of his shirt and waistcoat from his torso until they pooled around his arms, trapped by their tangled bodies. The boy broke the kiss free, mouthing along his bearded jaw before finding the older man's earlobe and giving the flesh a sharp nip. Steve gasped, rutting his hips up against the boy's, the lines of their cocks sliding together through layers of fabric. This.. _this_ was everything he'd been craving for so long.. the touch of a Consort to love and cherish, the unrepentant lust coursing through his veins like fire. He felt as if he might burst, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as Buchanan leaned into him, their bare torsos touching. His chest heaved with breath, his mind reeling, his fingers dug impossibly deeper into the teen's waist, drawing him flush until the two were rubbing and undulating against each other without care. "Buchanan... Buck..!" He whimpered, his fingers digging into his hips as he ground against him like a wanton creature.

Suddenly, Buchanan broke free of him entirely, pulling back as he panted for air. With a quick swish of fabric, the boy divested his pants from his hips, tossing the cloth to the floor and crawling onto the bed, tossing comehither glances over his shoulder to his owner. Completely nude, he sprawled out onto the bed, his legs splayed to present his hardened length to his Master. The Consort rucked himself further up the bed, pressing his heel to the bedding as he brought his own hand to his lips. Buchanan sucked two of his own fingers, letting his tongue dance openly over the digits as he wet them thoroughly with eyes wide and pleading for Steve to join him. He teased the digits carefully, pumping his hand back and forth as he thrust them further into his mouth, prodding his lips in a blatant show of what he wished his Master would do to him; splay him open, tear him apart from the inside out and utterly mark him as his own to desire, and revere, until he was screaming to the heavens of 'yes, _yes, YES_ '. Without a word, he plucked his fingers free from his mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting his fingers to his swollen lips. Staring up at his Master, Buchanan slid his hand down his bared torso, to his hips and then finally between his legs, leaving a thin trail of slick along his already damp torso, speckled with sweat. He gently prodded his middle finger against the tight rose of his entrance, pressing the muscle repeatedly until his body finally accepted his finger, and he pierced his hole up to the third knuckle in one, smooth thrust. He groaned openly, letting his eyes roll to the back of his head as he fingered himself, twisting his hand, crooking his finger to ease the muscles apart and clearly educated in what he was doing. Buchanan pumped his hand back and forth, thrusting his finger deeper and deeper inside his body until he penetrated himself wholly, riding his finger as his hips ground back against his hand. His free hand roamed over his bare chest, tweaking a nipple, raking his fingernails over the smooth planes of his belly until they left faint red lines in the skin. Finally, he wrapped his fingers around the jutting erection standing proudly from his hips, stroking himself to full mast as he writhed on the bed and played with himself so sweetly for his Master. "Please... please, Master..." he moaned, rocking his hips against his finger until a second one joined the first, scissoring and spreading his fingers until he was stretching himself with each thrust of his knuckles.

Steve stood, entranced by the show as he watched his Consort prepare himself for what was to come. He was so unbelievably attracted to what he was witnessing. The way Buchanan was writhing on the bed, crying out soft little sounds into the night and bucking his hips back against his hand until he was nothing but a mess of limbs and lust, fucking his own fingers. A mild panic washed over him as he realized he had absolutely no experience with sleeping with a man. Surely, it wasn't much different from a woman, but never had he seen a woman do what Buchanan was doing to himself. There simply had been no need for it. What if he hurt the boy? What if he was too rough? These worries plagued his mind... But _God_ , he could not fight the urges bubbling up his chest, setting his skin on fire with each moan, each breathy gasp Buchanan gave. The line of his cock pressed painfully against the inside of his trousers, straining to be free, and he found himself panting heavily, despite having done not a thing yet. When he saw a third finger join the others, stretching Buchanan impossibly wider and heard the boy begging him to join him, he decided enough was enough. He absolutely HAD to join the boy, take possession of his body and fill him to the brim with his climax, or he would die.

Hurriedly, Steve shrugged out of his shirt and vest, tossing them to the floor before he worked his trousers free, pushing them down his hips and kicking them off to join the rest of their clothing on the floor. Equally naked, the older man clambered onto the bed, looming over his new lover as he pressed him into a demanding kiss. He nipped, suckled, mouthed at him until Buchanan's lips were kiss-bruised and swollen, the wetness and the scent of musk between them driving him insane. "I'm here..." he panted between kisses, his hand snaking down to push the boy's fingers free from his cock and resumed stroking him himself, twisting his wrist with each stroke until the boy was writhing beneath him. Steve couldn't believe how smooth and silky his cock was in his hand, like warm velvet that wanted nothing more than to be stroked and caressed until he was spilling over his fingers. "Guide me..."

"Yes, Master..." Buchanan whimpered, rocking up against him, his fingers still embedded inside himself. With a free hand, he reached down, taking hold of Steve's cock and stroking him in fast, jerking motions to bring the older man to his full strength, the tandem fists pumping in time to each other until they were both crying into each other's mouths, kisses little more than mindless mouthing and moans. As he did, he rocked up against him, the lines of their skin rubbing silk against silk. Sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat, dampening the collar around his neck, and he whined, releasing Steve's dick. His fingers dug into the man's hip, drawing him closer until the two were rutting shamelessly on the bed to the echo of damp skin sliding together in a perfect rhythmic beat. Buchanan's head tossed back to the bedding and he stared up at the ceiling in bliss, baring his throat to him like a good little submissive to his owner. "Oooh... auuh... please! Please take me!" He begged, his voice little more than a whimper.

God, how could Steve deny him such a sweet request? Buchanan lay beneath him, legs splayed and twitching, their cocks rubbing together hotly until the friction was almost too great. He looked positively perfect, flushed red and begging the silent night around them. Steve complied, nodding eagerly as he pulled back, his dick hanging heavily between his legs. Kneeling on the bed, Steve grabbed Buchanan's hips, drawing him closer until the boy's legs were thrown over his thighs, wrapped around his waist, and his ass pressed against the tops of his knees. He reached down, grabbing Buchanan's fingers and plucking them free from his body, leaving his hole gaping and twitching for more stimulation. "Christ, you're so beautiful..." He gasped, staring down at the red, full member straining with want, and his ass begging to be plugged and pumped full of his come. Following instinct, Steve took hold of his cock, spitting into his palm as he followed Buchanan's example. He wet himself thoroughly as he slicked his hand over the straining cock engorged with blood and waited to impale him until the boy gave him his permission to continue.

Buchanan whined, rocking against his legs as his now totally free hands clawed at the pillows beneath his head. He tossed his head from side to side, babbling incoherently in his Mother tongue. God, he needed him, he NEEDED HIM _NOW_! His toes curled with want as he tightened his legs around the man's hips, drawing him in closer, feeling for that glorious pressure that would split him in two. Suddenly, Buchanan froze, feeling the blunt tip of Steve's cock prodding against his entrance, forcing its way past the still tense ring of muscles and he cried out softly, stilling as he waited for his Master to lay the final claim to his body. " _PLEASE_!"

Steve nodded, unable to speak. His cock prodding the trembling hole before him, Steve grabbed the boy's hips, drawing him closer as he pressed into the tense muscles. He could feel them shivering as he moved to breach his body and he paused, unsure if he should proceed. However, the whimpers that emanated from the boy were nothing of pain, and he felt emboldened that such a simple act could cause such a reaction. Braving the unknown, Steve leaned over the boy to drill his free hand into the mattress beneath them, wrapping his concubine's legs around his hips. He held his cock still, pressing further into him with each shallow thrust to tease the muscles to allow him entrance. In an instant, he could feel the tension giving way as he finally pierced his body in one particularly deep thrust, the hot channel enveloping him fully. Mother of God, he was tight. So tight, Steve feared he would hurt the boy, or come off too soon. Breathing heavily through his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the tidal wave of pleasure he felt as the fine ridges of his Consort's walls tensed around him, drawing him in with each spasm. "Oh God... Buchanan... You're bloody perfect!" he gasped, pressing his forehead to the boy's sweaty chest. He stilled, waiting for the initial waves of ecstasy to abate some. Any other moment and he might have laughed at himself for acting so virginal. But this... _Hell on Earth_ , he'd never felt anything like this before in his life. The tension was so powerful, so all-consuming he felt as if he could burst into flames. There was so much heat coursing through his veins, he could barely breathe.

Buchanan only whimpered, clawing his nails up and down the man's back until his fingers were biting sharply into Steve's skin. This elicited sharp gasps from Steve, his hips stuttering forward until his hips were flush with the boy's ass. Buchanan drew his legs in closer, rocking himself back against the man's hips until he could finally feel Steve piercing him deeper... deeper still. " _Auuuuuhhhhh_.... Master... Please... _move_!" He panted, digging his heels into the man's backside for more leverage.

Steve obliged, nodding as he inhaled sharply. He rolled his hips back, withdrawing from his body in a long, slow glide, until only the tip of his cock remained inside his body. He tested the waters, thrusting slow and shallow, then rucking his hips a little harder, drilling into the boy for a few moments before stilling again. He learned, quickly, what made the concubine cry out and what gave him pause. The harder the thrust, the more pleasure Buchanan seemed to derive from his body. He could definitely do that.

Body drenched in sweat, Steve looked up at his lover, meeting the hazy glance, the clouded blue eyes, before he withdrew once more. Pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of the boy's shoulders, Steve stilled, waiting for Buchanan to calm down a moment. Then he moved, thrusting hard and fast into the boy's body, jarring his body with the force of his pumping hips, sending his lover into a cry so loud, he was sure it woke the household. The hot, hurried action sent a thrill up and down his own body, his nerves alighting and muscles quaking as he withdrew again and thrusting deeper, harder still. He felt slightly uncoordinated as he learned how hard to press, when to withdraw without slipping free from his body, and God, how bloody fucking perfect Buchanan felt around him.

Buchanan shouted, head tossed back into the pillows as he whimpered with eager little yelps that echoed in the room around them. With every thrust that impaled him, the boy could feel his nerves alighting with fire, his skin prickling as he whimpered into the older man's ear, his own lower lip caught between his teeth until he nearly tasted copper on his tongue. He dug his nails into Steve's shoulders, tensing around him, _squeezing_ his cock as it withdrew and drilled him, repeatedly. He could sense Steve's hesitance still bubbling underneath the surface, slowing his motions even when the pace reached a perfect pattern of friction and utter heat pooling between them. Pulling his hands away from the blond's back, Buchanan pushed the blond up, just enough so that the two could meet gazes. His eyes... he'd never seen another look so perfectly drunk on this pleasure. The rings of blue in his Master's eyes were almost completely gone, drowned out by the inky black of his pupils, and his cheeks were flushed a dark red and speckled with sweat. Buchanan moaned, biting his lower lip as he held the man in place, making the blond look directly into his eyes as he claimed him for the first time. "Don't stop... You are most perfect.. I've never... had such good.... _AUH_!!" he cried, his eyes blowing wide as Steve found his prostate inside him and drilled it in firm thrusts. He seized up, his legs trembling violently. His body clenched around the cock burrowed into him, pressing against the over-sensitive bundle inside him until he could barely see straight. His back arched, his legs a vice grip around Steve's waist as he bowed off of the bed beneath him, his fingers digging into the bedding to hold onto any sanity he had left. "Uuh.. _uh_... _ah_..! Oh _God_..!"

Steve gasped, stilling his hips as he saw the boy tensing up beneath him, his face a mask of some unknown emotion he couldn't read. He didn't know if he'd hurt something deep inside him with his last motion, and fear lanced through him like a spear. "Buchanan! Did I hurt you?" He gasped, breathing ragged and shallow. Even now, unmoving, the boy was a perfect sheath of warmth around him. He was hot and wet and unyielding and Steve was helpless to stop his hips from rutting into that perfect warmth. "Buchanan.. Let me.. stop.. and check you..!"

Buchanan shook his head hard, gripping the man's face in his palms. Yanking him back down, the brunet plundered his Master's mouth, nipping and biting his lips sharply as his tongue pierced the other's lips. Now he was _sure_  he tasted blood on his tongue, though he was unsure whose it might be. He licked and claimed the man for himself in the only way he could. His hips squirmed beneath him to impale himself further onto the cock filling him up, and he whined as he felt the overstimulated nerves prodded once again. "N-no! Is good.. that's.. do that again!" he cried, the corners of his eyes prickling with pleasured tears until they ran down his cheeks, staining his skin and soaking into the sweat the built at his temples. His hands moved from the concerned face, trailing down his back in a feathery tickle, mapping out the planes and valleys of Steve's perfect musculature, until they found the mounds of his owner's ass. Gripping the firm globes in his palms, Buchanan tugged him closer still until his cock impaled him unbelievably further, their hips grinding into one another with each deep heave.

Even still, Steve didn't know if that face was of pain or pleasure. He stared down at his lover as the boy lost himself completely to the sensations. His features were painted in a mask he didn't recognize, and the winces he saw... they were definitely new to him. "Buchanan.. you're hurting." He tried once more, reaching behind himself. His hips slowed their gesticulations, and he grabbed one wrist, pulling it away from his backside to try and disentangle himself to check the boy. Of course, he didn't notice the way the boy was looking at him now, almost betrayed that his Master would stop this glorious act.

Suddenly, Steve gasped as he felt momentum throwing him from his knees and tossing him onto his back. Before he had time to process that the much smaller boy had actually thrown him to his back, the brunet was clambering onto his lap, straddling his legs and piercing himself onto his cock once again. His descent was much more hurried this time, rocking down against his prick as Buchanan split himself in two, the girth of Steve's cock spreading him impossibly so. His head fell back, cradled between his shoulders as he twirled his hips, twisting himself onto his prick and stroking the man beneath him with the wild gyrations he could not hold back. The Consort's palms splayed over his chest, and he looked up to see Buchanan rolling his hips against him, taking him all in with an expression of unrepentant bliss coloring his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak again, but found himself moaning louder still into the room. Those deft, slim fingers had found his chest, and the tips of his fingers twirled over the pebbles of his nipples, pinching them repeatedly as he rose up on strong thighs, and began to ride him expertly. Steve's body felt as if it could melt beneath the perfection of his Consort fucking himself onto his lap, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the void around them, hips knocking together and sex permeating the air in a thick fog until they were both riding higher and _higher_ on the adrenaline coursing through their blood. His own hands found the boy's hips, gripping him tightly as he watched Buchanan taking control and using his own leverage to thrust his cock into that tight channel, over and over again. It was the most stunning, most arousing thing he'd ever seen and felt in his life, and he was sure he could die right there, and see God's grace.

"You don't... hurt me!" Buchanan ground out, looking down at his Master with fire in his eyes. He licked his chapped lips in an enticing display, the fire burning in his crystal gaze as he stared down at Steve, ready to devour him in their sex. "I will say when you hurt. This is perfection. I have never... _auuh_... felt such... _amazing_!" he whimpered, struggling to remember his English as he fucked himself down onto the man's prick. Bouncing and gyrating on his lap as if he'd never have enough of it, Buchanan uttered a litany of pleas so loud and so sweet, the whole of London could possibly hear them make love. As he rocked his hips back against his lap more hurried and desperate than ever, the boy leaned down, laving the flat of his tongue over Steve's left nipple before sucking the flesh hungrily and savoring the salty tang of his sweat. His teeth clipped the pebbled flesh, biting at his nipples one at a time until they were red, swollen and stimulated. The sounds of his Master crying out at those bites only fueled Buchanan on further, sucking his tits like a desperate whore, bringing him closer to the edge than the blond had ever been in his life.

Steve chose then and there, to finally lose himself to these pleasures. They were nothing if they didn't have trust in each other, and if Buchanan said he wasn't hurting him, he had to take the boy's word. Besides, all manner of polite thought and sanity had long since fled the blond, leaving nothing but a ravaging, powerful desire so all-consuming he could barely think straight. He was helpless to stop this now, as if he really, truly wanted to. Wrapping his arms around the boy's waist, he held him close as the teen continued to mouth at his chest, pricking the sensitive flesh further still with the blunt of his teeth. His hips picked up pace, drilling into him with wild abandon, skin echoing in sharp slaps until they were both stinging between them. Heels dug into the mattress for leverage and he found himself moaning with equal vigor into Buchanan's shoulder, the slick-slide of sweaty skin making the scent of their lust more powerful than anything he'd ever experienced in his life.

Minutes clawed by as the two thoroughly explored each other's strengths and weaknesses. Steve found the boy enjoyed the rougher thrusts of his hips and the biting bruises he left all over his fair neck and shoulders, bouncing him near off of his lap, and making him squeal in delight. The Consort looked beautiful, marked with dark red and purple bite marks that checkered his skin like a living story of their wild fuck. Buchanan found Steve's chest was most sensitive, quickly followed by the column of his throat. He made great effort to lave at the jugular, so close he could feel the fluttering pulse against his tongue. He attacked his Master's neck with hunger, biting matching bruises into the skin just below his ear and giving the abused skin sharp bites until the Captain was a whimpering mess. Nails raked over skin in irritated lines, hair plastered to their foreheads in sweat, friction growing impossibly hotter between them. The creak of the mattress beneath them did little to mask the sound of skin against skin, a wet slide between them as the two grew closer to their ultimate climax. Steve could feel the old but familiar prickle of his release growing beneath the surface of his skin. How long had they been at this? An hour? Two? He didn't know, nor did he care. He simply allowed himself to fall faster and harder, his sight filling with white static at the corners as he stared up at the ceiling, allowing the boy to continue to abuse his throat. When the boy suddenly tensed, crying out into the air around them, he knew the teen was close to release.

Hips stuttering against his Master's lap, Buchanan pulled back to stare into his eyes, his swollen lips parted in an "oh" as he panted. "I... I-I'm... close!" he gasped, unable to speak louder than a whisper.

Steve took that as a cue, and he nodded, fighting his own orgasm for just a few moments longer. Pushing the boy back, he wrapped his hand around his reddened cock, stroking his little Star's cock fast and hard as he rocked up into the loosened and abused channel around him. With just enough space between them, he pulled the boy back into a kiss, fingers ghosting over the hot silk of his Pet's dick and breathing each other in as they both reached the precipice of their pleasure. Steve came first, his body tensing like a bowstring before he broke. Snapping his hips up into his body in a wild, frantic pace, Steve climaxed with a fierce growl, his fingers digging into the boy's hips until they bruised the delicate skin beneath them. The pace was uncoordinated, had lost all of its rhythm, and focused only on piercing his body wildly until he released his seed, filling him to the brim with his mark and painting the reddened walls of his ass until they were coated in the thick, white come and slicking him up again with the thick fluid. He shouted into the quiet air around them, his eyes squeezed shut as he heaved ragged breaths, his hips moving against his will to stroke himself through his climax in the body of his beloved Consort, mouth hanging open as the shock of such a powerful orgasm rendered him speechless.

Watching Steve come was the most beautiful thing the Consort had ever seen. Buchanan stared in wide-eyed wonder for the briefest of moments, memorizing just how stunning this man looked when he climaxed, a perfect fresco of sweat, lust and sex, gasping for air and crying out at the over stimulation his body provided. He could feel his Master's release filling him up until he overflowed, and that alone brought him to his own end. Buchanan cried out, cock giving a violent twitch before he was spilling over the man's stomach, legs shuddering and cock painting the reddened skin of Steve's belly and chest in pearly ropes. His channel fluttered around the still hard prick inside him, his body unable to cope with the unbelievable sensations searing into their overused nerves.

They fell together, bodies unwinding from the coil of bliss they'd worked themselves into until the boy collapsed onto the mess he'd made, splayed out over Steve's chest in an exhausted pile of limbs. He was unable to move as he lay across his Master's sweaty and come-sticky body, breathing deeply to try and replenish his energies some. His cheek pressed to the man's left pectoral, and he could hear the wild thundering of his heart echoing in the broad chest he lay on. He may have been experienced... but he'd never heard what a man's heart sounded like after bringing him to the edge of insanity and back. He knew he should move... but he didn't. He just wanted to hear that heartbeat for as long as he possibly could and relish the delight in such a simple act.

Steve panted, staring at the ceiling as they lay together in the aftermath of the best sex he'd ever had. He lifted one, exhausted arm and draped it over his Consort's body to hold him close and safe. Slowly, he withdrew from his abused hole, careful not to overstimulate the boy any further; he could feel his come dribbling from his lover's body and a wild sort of satisfaction warmed his chest. Buchanan was his, and no one could change that. "That... that was perfect..." he breathed, not bothering to fight the ridiculous smile that crossed his lips. "You are barely a man... how long have you been... this experienced?" he asked, looking down at him. Even now, he still found himself amazed at the maturity this Consort exuded. He himself felt like a blushing bride on her wedding night in the face of this lad's touch, yet Buchanan seemed only mildly phased by the intensity of their sex.

Buchanan just snorted, pressing his fingers to the lips that had spoken, and he shook his head. "Longer than I will like to say. Now silent. I am listening to this little bird inside you..." he murmured, pressing his ear to Steve's pectoral a little longer, straining to hear the heartbeat as it slowed down from the galloping rush to a calm, pleasant pace. He'd never done this before. His previous Master had never allowed such a close, comforting aura to envelope them after sex. This was entirely new, and while it was frightening beyond measure, Buchanan found he liked it quite a lot.

Steve smiled, glancing down at the brunet mop of hair that had taken residence on his chest. He brushed his fingers through the sweaty locks, combing them back so that he could see his face. Buchanan's eyes had closed, and the pleasant smile that crossed his lips was nothing short of angelic. As he watched the concubine, he glanced up at the clock on the far wall, and his smile grew. It was little past 4 in the morning. How strange,that just five hours prior, he'd been ruing this day, alone and without a Consort to claim. Now, he had one of his very own and his bed had finally been christened with the love of his One. After so long, here he finally lay in the throes of the most powerful orgasm he'd had in his life with this little Star curled up on his chest, the two of them soaking up their after-sex with pure delight.

He allowed Buchanan to drape over him like a warm, wet blanket for long minutes, and he sighed in content, letting his fingers dance along the sweaty spine beneath his touch. Now, focused on more than the wild, primal lust that had overtaken them both, he really felt the Consort's body. As he caressed him, Steve's smile faltered, and he looked down at him in concern. In the light of the candles, the hollows and valleys of his bones could be clearly seen, casting shadows across his skin, and he found himself tracing the lines with his fingers. He could feel the ridges of his ribs, the bumps of his spine through his flesh, and he paused. To LOOK at Buchanan, he seemed strong and capable... but this... he could feel each bone as if they had been presented to him in broad daylight. Now, looking so closely at him, he could see... Buchanan was not willowy, as he had thought. Buchanan was thin, and far too much.

"What do you look at?" A voice broke him from his revere, and he looked down to see Buchanan staring at him. He frowned, noticing the way the boy was gazing at him, as if he were surveying the man's reaction. Swallowing thickly, Steve shook his head, offering up a comforting look to him.

"Nothing, Buchanan. Just considering your figure..." Steve murmured, pushing the drying strands of hair from Buchanan's forehead.

"Considering... what?"

Steve hesitated, hearing the accusation buried deep in the Consort's tone. He frowned, watching as his Pet pulled off of him, sitting up to stare down at his Master with wide eyes. "Nothing. There is no fault with you at all." he said, sitting up and reaching for him. He tugged the boy closer, pressing a kiss to each cheek, trailing them up to his brow, and inhaling his scent. "I said it before, Buchanan. You are the most beautiful Consort I've ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon. You are just a bit thin. I will ensure that Darcy has food prepared for you whenever you choose. I'm sure your travels have not given you the proper nourishment you need. I only wish to care for your wants and health. That is all."

Buchanan listened to him, looking up at the kind face that smiled down at him. He did not smile back. Instead he nodded a little forlornly, curling up on his side with his back to the older man. He didn't look back at him again, closing his eyes as he rested his head on the older man's pillow. He knew what the man was saying... he knew his Master meant well. Still, he couldn't help the sting that pierced his heart at his words. He had to strive to be perfect... that's what they had always said to him. He tried, he really did... But even now, Buchanan knew he still wasn't flawless... What a terribly inconvenient thing.

Steve hesitated, staring down at him as the boy curled up with his back to him. He didn't understand. Just moments before, the two were completely happy with each other. Now... now he was being shut out. And he didn't have a clue why. This was clearly reminiscent of his attitude earlier in the evening. Once the two had engaged in sex, he'd finally opened up, bore affection onto him. But now, he was right back to the shell he'd been earlier, and he didn't really understand why.  
He tried to rationalize it. Perhaps Buchanan was tired. Perhaps he'd overstepped a boundary with his words. Perhaps this was just all part of the bonding between Master and Consort. Maybe a level of trust needed to be met before the boy would open up to him fully. He didn't know.

All he did know was that sleep was beginning to claw its way to his consciousness, and he stifled a yawn. Deciding to put off discovering his answer until tomorrow, Steve lay down next to the boy, drawing the blankets up over both of them. Once done, Steve moved closer to Buchanan, wrapping his arm around his thin waist and pulling him close. He smiled, seeing that the Consort did not pull away from him at least. That was something. So with a stifled yawn, Steve pressed a loving kiss to the back of Buchanan's neck, feeling the cool caress of the black silk against his lips, and he murmured for him to sleep well. Steve closed his eyes, relishing the feel of a warm body in his arms, that body thoroughly marked and claimed by him. All in all, he had to say this was a pretty good 30th birthday. Tomorrow was another day. He could discover the secrets of owning such a pretty Pet when day broke....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to get back to the Lazarus Project....


	3. Dysmorphia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve presents his Consort to his wife for approval, and is happy to find Peggy accepts the boy readily into their home. Buchanan recalls memories of his previous Owner, and what exactly happened to turn his heart so cold and unsure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy CRAP I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this one up! i hate putting too many spaces between chapters, but life happened and yeah, lol
> 
> This chapter is going to focus on Bucky's past and why he's so hot and cold with Steve. This chapter deals with the Consort having a mild case of Body Dysmorphic Disorder and anorexia, so if this is a trigger for anyone, you've been warned now. While BDD generally comes from biological AND social experiences, Bucky develops SEVERE low self esteem after a jarring experience in his past and therefore his case is developed entirely from outside influences. He wont look at himself in a mirror, he won't eat, and he generally thinks the world finds him a hideous creature. He's shocked that Steve, whom he sees as beautiful and perfection personified, would even pick him. I don't plan on sticking with these mental issues for long, considering this story is about the two falling in love. However, having a background as to why Buchanan was so iffy towards Steve in the beginning, better illustrates how perfect Steve views Bucky as.
> 
> Also, the flashback scene was supposed to go VERY differently, but after advice from a good friend, L1av, I decided to go with the Greek art influence and douse Bucky in gold and silver paint. So Thanks to her for helping me get out of the funk I was in! You're a life saver!!!!
> 
> last note: I changed quite a bit in the last two chapters of the story to make this one make more sense. If you're confused as to why Sam is no longer a servant in the house, you'll have to go back to chapter 2 and re-read it. I decided he was better suited as a flat-mate, rather than the help, since steve and sam made better sense as war-buddies lol. Also, Peggy is a lot nicer now than I originally wrote her, so yay for that! :D

Sun rose over the smoke stacks of the London cityscape, painting the city in an orange glow. Birds chirped over the city as they roused from their slumber, fluttering across the chimneys as they made flight for the day, while down below factory workers, dock hands, and all the likes of the city's life-source made their way down the streets towards their livelihoods with full bellies and tired glances. In the distance, the sound of factory whistle echoed in the cool morning air, a calm but lovely July morning rising up over the city to welcome the new day.

While the city slowly came to life around them, inside the Rogers-Carter household out in the country, the residents continued to sleep, peacefully undisturbed by the day rising around them. Hours ticked by; the light slowly ascended before the whole of London was basking in its warm glow. Inside, Darcy roused from her slumber, dressing in her fine black uniform and finally greeting the day to start her normal chores with a smile on his lips. It wasn't often the woman got to sleep in, but due to her employers' late night out, she'd been allowed the luxury of a few extra hours of sleep before her work day began.

Darcy was a petite, little thing with dark brown hair and impossibly red lips. She always had a bright smile on her face, and her cheerful, mousy expression always brought a smile to everyone that met her. Ever the early riser, she'd relished the chance to sleep in as long as she had; however, the itch to get on with her daily chores drove her from her bed finally and she bustled about the house, light on her feet and effervescent. As ten began to make its round about the clock, Darcy prepared a late breakfast for her employers, working diligently as she finely chopped the vegetables and began to heat up a skillet for the morning fry-up. Even now, after finishing the washing and drying and preparing a full breakfast for her employers, Darcy still smiled as she skipped her way up the stairs with her heels clicking merrily against the wood. She smoothed her hand down the front of her apron before rapping her knuckles against the door. "And a fine mornin' to you all! Breakfast is served and waitin' for the lot of you, if you'd be so kind as to greet the day!"

It was common knowledge that both Steve and Peggy shared an unusual relationship with their maid. While most servants would maintain the highest of respect in the face of their employers, Darcy felt right at home in the presence of the married couple and their flat-mate, Sam. “Friends,” was the better term for the four of them, and the only indication that they were anything but, was the employment check cashed every month.

With her ear pressed to the wood of Peggy's bedroom door, she giggled at the sound of sleepy mumblings coming from inside. Satisfied that Peggy and Angela had finally roused for the day Darcy skipped over to Steve's bedrooms, knocking eagerly on the door as she pressed her ear to the wood once again. "Oy, Captain Rogers! I best not be finding myself walking in and seeing your new boy up in arms with you!" she giggled, knocking on the door one last time before trying the handle. Sure enough the door was locked. She laughed brightly, turning her back to the door. "Have it yer way then! I'll do my best to make sure Samuel leaves enough food behind for the two of you!" With that, the brunette woman slipped down the hall to gather Sam from his own chambers; inside the ornate bedroom, the sleeping figures finally stirred and began to wake from their slumber.

Steven yawned, turning over in his bed at the sound of sharp knocking at the door. Blinking his eyes open, the man stared at the far side of the room, gazing at the sunlight painted across the walls in a gentle glow; he could feel a pulsing warmth at his back and confusion filled his mind. It took him all of about ten seconds to remember the reason for such an oppressive warmth at his back and when he turned over, the smile that crossed his lips was brighter than the sun flooding the room.

Buchanan lay curled up facing his Master, and his arms were wrapped around the down pillow he'd commandeered for the night. His dark hair sat tousled and sleep-mussed on his head, his mouth hanging open in a silent snore. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the blankets and quilt draped over his naked figure, and the sight of the bruises and bite marks that had formed overnight adorned his neck and shoulders in dark red spots. He looked ethereal in the golden light, with his slim figure covered in the white sheet just above his naked waist.

Steve stared at his Consort with nothing but admiration. Buchanan was stunning even in sleep, and he found himself staring fondly at the innocent look that painted his Pet like a precious canvas. He reached out, stroking his fingers over the concubine's cheek in a gentle touch. Caressing the smooth skin, Steve thought of their sex the night before and he swallowed, feeling residual attraction to his precious Star bubbling up under the surface of his slightly overheated skin. What he wouldn't give to just remain in this bed for the whole day with his Consort...

Unable to hold back any longer, Steve leaned forward, brushing his lips over the boy's forehead and cheek in a gentle kiss. He nuzzled the lad carefully, letting the scritch-scratch of his beard dance across the boy's skin before he moved his way down the exposed throat at his access.

Buchanan shifted slightly in his sleep. As Steve's kisses danced their way across his face and down the side of his neck, a small and sleepy smile crossed his slack features. He squirmed a little against Steve's front; a dreamy giggle escaping him as the blond kissed his way up and down the boy's body.

Steve, drawn by the sudden affectionate behavior exhibited to him, leaned in and wrapped his arm around his slim body to pull Buchanan close. With his hand threaded around the teen's waist, Steve pressed feather-light kisses to Buchanan's brow, his nose, and finally, his soft lips. He lingered for a moment, memorizing the supple-soft press of his Consort's mouth against his own; he could feel the teen responding to the kiss before he'd even woken from his slumber, their lips caressing and tongues prodding into each other in a tender but evocative dance. Steve groaned lightly, his fingers digging into Buchanan's hip as he drew their bare bodies together in a warm and utterly delicious contact. He watched as Buchanan sleepily opened one eye. He looked up at the man caressing him and blinked to clear the cobwebs from his mind in post-sleep confusion.

Steve beamed down at him. He brushed his fingers over the fine hair that dangled in his eyes and pushed the strands back from his face. Steve pressed one last kiss to Buchanan’s nose, caressing the skin for a moment before resting his head on his arm so that he could see Buchanan’s face properly. "Good morning, Buchanan. How did you sleep?" he asked. In the haze of his sleep, Steve's tone accentuated the faint brogue in his voice, the accent ever more prominent in the early morning hours of the day.

Steve waited, patiently watching the boy as his mouth flopped open as if to speak, before those full, cherry lips clamped back shut once again. Buchanan seemed a bit perplexed by the whole affair; he stared up at him with slightly narrowed eyes before his features softened once again. Those crystal blue eyes darted down to his Master's chest, staring tiredly at the body in front of him before he finally found it in himself to look back up and meet his gaze again. It was like night and day; just moments ago, Steve had been enraptured to see his Pet cuddling up to him and accepting those kisses without hesitation. Now, he simply lay in the cradle of his arms, staring up at him as if he had no idea what to do with Steve's affections.

"I slept... good," Buchanan murmured, biting at his still-swollen lower lip before he sat up. Steve watched as the white sheet pooled around his waist; shamelessly Buchanan allowed his naked body to be bared to his line of sight. Steve couldn't help but let his eyes roam over the teen's figure, soaking it all up hungrily before he remembered the issue at hand. Buchanan was obviously uncomfortable of something between them. As much as Steve was bothered by the idea that Buchanan could POSSIBLY be turned off by him, he wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of it; the sooner the better.

"I can see that. I don't think I've slept without a pillow in a very long time. Not since the war." Steve chuckled, sitting up and smiling down at the teen. When he received a sort of half-smile in return from him, Steve chuckled once more, wrapping his arm around Buchanan’s waist. "It's alright. If you want to have your own pillow to sleep with, you have no reason to feel ashamed to ask for one. Though, I will gladly allow you to use mine; whenever you feel like it."

Buchanan only nodded, looking up at him briefly before he carefully folded himself back into the warmth that was Steve's side. That action, while hesitant, sent a thrill of hope through the Captain and he wrapped his arms around his waist eagerly, kissing his crown. "I heard..." Buchanan started, cutting himself off before trying again. "I believe I heard voice calling to us from the door?"

"Oh, right." Steve laughed softly, looking at the large wooden door that barred them from the rest of the house. "That would have been Darcy, the maid. She was simply here to tell us that breakfast was ready. Though, I suppose at this hour of the day, it should actually be called lunch." He smiled; clearly pleased with his own joke.

Buchanan simply watched his Master, the faint tint of a smile threatening to dance at the corners of his mouth. Steve liked the sight of that smile. But just as he disentangled himself from the blankets, he heard that small voice pipe back up again and he turned.

"You don't... talk like the others here. It's... faint, but... different. Why?" Buchanan asked him. He scooted closer to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs down as he sat up fully. Steve watched as the teen flinched at putting solid pressure to his backside; he made a face of discomfort as he slowly got to his feet. Clearly, their sex the night before had left a lasting impression on the Consort. A pang of guilt shot through Steve's figure as he watched the boy get to his feet, still obviously in discomfort. He wondered if he was too hard on him, and immediately made his way over to help him to his feet.

"What do you mean? Do you mean my accent?" Steve asked. When Buchanan nodded to him, he chuckled. "Ah… That would be from my parents. You see, I might have grown up in New York, but my parents immigrated there, straight from Ireland. I suppose their speech rubbed off on me and it stuck. I remember my mother cursing my misbehaviors in her native tongue. I wish I remembered how to speak Gaelic. I've long forgotten how." he commented. Gripping Buchanan's shoulders in his palms, Steve smiled down at him. God, he was so stunningly beautiful it hurt to look at him. He could feel his heart panging in his chest at the sight of him, and the Captain found his hands gently grazing his biceps, rubbing his arms in soothing strokes. "Now, let me get you some clothing, and we'll go eat."

The two set about the bedroom, gathering their clothing for the day. Steve immediately stopped Buchanan from putting the soiled muslin pants back on the moment he saw him reaching for them, and instead offered him the silk pants he'd been thinking of the night before. They were large and far too long for Buchanan's legs, but they cinched well around his waist. Besides, the glow of the silk was much more preferable than the dingy stains of mud on cloth. When the concubine was decked in the silk pajama pants, Steve took a long moment just to admire him; his hands obsessively grazed over the teen's shoulders before he pulled him into a loving kiss once more. "You look beautiful." Steve murmured; his eyes shining.

He was fairly sure he would never get over the sight of his One. For as long as he had him, Steve was damn sure he'd always find some reason or another to be completely attracted to Buchanan all over again. He lost himself to the moment to just watch his One, before he realized he hadn't even dressed yet.

Still naked, and his wife and the others were possibly waiting for the two of them to arrive.

Smiling sheepishly, Steven quickly dressed in a pair of pajama pants, a button-down nightshirt, and his robe. He pulled on a pair of slippers, and then with a tender hand he reached out to take the Consort's fingers in his own. He did well to hide the giddy smile that crossed his features, when Buchanan openly took his hand in his. Their fingers laced together perfectly, as if the two were made for each other. Perhaps... perhaps they were.

The two of them left the bedroom, making their way down the hall and to the grand staircase that would take them to the dining room. The sound of china clinking together tickled the air around them, giving the house a bright atmosphere. Steve couldn't help but feel excited to show off his new Consort to his wife, who just hours before had been seriously concerned for his problem. He knew she'd only meant well with her constant prying; dealing with the Union taxes was no easy thing. Though he'd seemed rather flippant to the thought of paying the high fees of the Union, the thought of his monthly tything was actually more terrifying than he'd let on. Richer men than he had gone destitute paying the funds needed. He imagined he would have lost everything in less than two years if he'd had to subject himself to the same treatment. So while he'd understood she simply wished to see him happy and not suffer through paying the taxes that had been looming over his head all this time, Steve was more than glad to show her exactly what kind of good came from waiting for the right One after all.

"Good morning, everyone!" Steve said, stepping into the room with a cheerful wave. At his side Buchanan remained quiet, his eyes downcast to the floor as he shyly followed his Master into the room. "What a beautiful day it's turned out to be. I hope the night has treated you all well."

Peggy, having just been deep in conversation with Sam, looked up as he entered the room. When their eyes landed on Buchanan, Steve found himself amused to see twin expressions of shock cross their faces as they stared at the thoroughly marked and claimed Pet at his side. "My word!" Peggy exclaimed, turning in her seat to stare at the two of them and the many love bites and bruises that still littered the Russian boy's throat. "If anyone's night has treated them well, I'd say yours took the cake, darling!"

Steve chuckled, tugging Buchanan to the table with him. As was customary for married couples, Steve presented his Consort to his wife for inspection and approval; he stood back to let the two meet, and he folded his hands behind his back to wait. Steve watched as his wife stood from her chair, approaching the teen that stood silently in the room. Buchanan was about the same height as Peggy and the two leveled gazes at each other to wait for the other's reaction; after a moment, Buchanan tilted his head down, bowing to her in an act of quiet respect.

This was Peggy's moment to make or break the bond between Buchanan and Steve. It wasn't common for the wife or husband of a newly bonded Master or Mistress to reject the Consort chosen... but it HAD happened. It would just be his luck if Peggy deemed Buchanan unfit for her husband's bed. God, Steve hoped she would accept him... he didn't think he could possibly bare the thought of having to return his Pet so soon. Steve nervously chewed his lip as he waited for his wife's approval, his hands wringing behind his back as he waited. To his left, Darcy watched from the entryway of the dining room while Sam sat silently in his seat, neither daring to make a sound; Steve could feel their eyes flitting over to him as he waited for Peggy to finish.

Under Steve's protective eye, Peggy let her eyes roam over Buchanan, taking in his sharp edges and lightly tanned skin. Her fingers skimmed over Buchanan's arms, his torso and chest, and finally, up the column of his neck, but never dropped below the waist. She touched the fine threads of his hair, his cheeks, nose and lips. Peggy spun the boy around to examine his back, searching for anything she might find inappropriate or unacceptable. Her examination took minutes, and Steve felt himself growing more nervous the longer she took. He'd had to do the same for Angela when he and Peggy married, but he'd never taken this long. What would he do if she found fault in the boy? He'd already fallen positively in love with him. Captain of the King's Army or not, he'd feel his heart crumble to dust in his chest if Peggy found any reason to dislike him or request Buchanan be returned to the Union.

But just when it seemed he'd die of anticipation Peggy finally pulled away, looking up at her husband with amusement in her brown eyes. "He's a beautiful Pet, Steve." She said. She kept her hands planted on Buchanan's shoulders as she spoke. "A fine specimen indeed. Not a flaw to be seen. Well... at least not flaws that were not put there by you."

Steve blushed, looking down at the floor. "I take it your approval is met?" he asked; looking up at her.

Peggy grinned, nodding to her husband before looking down at the boy in her hands. "I'd say he does indeed have my approval." Peggy then leaned in, pressing her lips to the teen's forehead in a soft and chaste kiss. "Welcome to our family, Consort. What is your name?"

"Buchanan." he replied. As he spoke, he looked up at his Master, and Steve found himself stunned to see the teen offer him his first genuine smile since he'd brought him home. It may have been small, but it was there and it was unmistakable. Steve felt as if he was on top of the world with delight.

"Buchanan. A strong, lovely name," Peggy replied, pulling back and nodding to him. "Well then. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, shall we eat now? I'm starving! Angela, darling, do sit to my right. I want you and Buchanan to bond some, since we will all be living under the same roof."

Steven felt dizzy with delight. He'd hoped that Peggy would approve of Buchanan, but he'd NEVER expected her to be so comfortable with the Consort so quickly. He'd expected perhaps a few days of growing accustomed to his presence, at best. But she'd willingly and openly welcomed the teen into their home with open arms. Steve had never felt so grateful to his wife. "Yes, I think that is a fine idea, Peggy. Buchanan you sit to my left." he said, pulling the chair out for him.

Buchanan did as he was told, sitting next to the fair Angela, side by side. At the surprised look Buchanan gave the older woman, Steve guessed he’d been taken aback by her feminine beauty. However, the atmosphere of the room about them was infectious, and he watched in delight as Buchanan offered his hand to Angela; with that simple act, the two Consorts bonded in the late morning sunlight that filtered into the room about them.

As he watched the teen talk with Angela, sitting obediently with his hands folded in his lap, Steve heard the bustle of Darcy entering the room, carrying platters of food for the lot of them. Steve looked up; he smiling brightly as the spread that was prepared for them all was laid out in self-serving platters on the large table. "Oh, that looks delicious. Darcy will you be joining us this morning?"

Darcy laughed, batting her eyes at her employer. "I was hoping you would ask! T'was a fine pig, these sausages came from. I was hoping I'd be welcomed to sampling a bit this morning, if it's not too bold of me to say!"

"Not at all, Darcy!" Sam replied, waving to the spare chair on the other side of the table. "Please make yourself a plate. There's just too much food for us to finish at once. Please, sit down and join us!"

Steve watched as Darcy made to take her seat, serving herself a substantial portion of the meal placed before them all. The food was piping hot and smelled deliciously of the fry it had taken to cook the foods to their delectable flavor. As he watched the others, his stomach rumbled to life, demanding food loudly; completely famished after the night he'd had, Steve tucked into his breakfast with delight, taking bites of the fried tomatoes with a happy hum in his throat. He washed the flavor down with a swallow of tea, relishing the comfortable atmosphere as the group ate their fill.

"So... Steve," Peggy spoke up, pulling him from his thoughts. "When I got home last night from your birthday party, I seem to recall you were still out. And I was home about midnight, myself. Where exactly did you scamper off to?" she asked, raising a brow at her husband with a smile. "Were you off shopping in a last minute hope to avoid the untimely arrival of your tax season?"

Steve laughed, dabbing the grease from his lips with a linen napkin before speaking. "To be honest, I actually had had no intention on looking for a Consort last night. I happened to run into Thor and Tony, who were out with their own Pets, and they persuaded me to join them at the Old Theater Auction house. It was just a case of good timing that I happened to find Buchanan there last night. He was the only Consort that even remotely caught my attention and my affections." As he spoke, he reached down, taking the brunet's fingers in his; he gave the boy's hand a gentle squeeze as he spoke, and the returned response radiated up his arm like a warm wave until it consumed his heart in a flutter of delight.

"How wonderful! You're a lucky man, Steve Rogers!" Peggy said in equal delight.

Steve really did feel like the luckiest man alive, as if nothing could possibly ruin this perfect day. To his left, Buchanan and Angela continued their conversation, politely getting to know the other and chuckling at odd and end statements from the other. His wife had graciously accepted Buchanan into her house. Sam and Darcy spent a good portion chatting with the other on the prime cut of the pork and underhandedly teasing Steve for his doe-eyed affections to the Consort. Surely, Steve felt right at home this fine morning as he tucked into his meal with delight.

Of course, it seemed that it was not to last long. As he worked his way through the plate of food, he failed to notice the conversation to his side had died down considerably. Steve felt a hand touching his right elbow and he looked up with a frown. Sam was staring at him with a faintly concerned look on his features, gesturing with his eyes, to Steve's left. It took Steve a moment to realize that his friend was staring at his Consort and not at himself. Curious, Steve glanced over; when he looked to the Consort at his side, he paused, his brow knitting in concern.

In all this time at the table, Buchanan had not touched his food... not once.

Odd. Angela had no qualms about feasting with her Mistress, nor with the maid of the house. Even now, the fair girl was making good time, clearing her plate to give her the energy she'd need to pursue the day. But Buchanan… the boy didn't even so much as LOOK at his plate, let alone touch it. The food sat neglected, growing cold on the white china, and the boy made a pointed effort to ignore the meal all about him, his eyes locked on Angela's features for something to look at.

How strange. Steve swallowed his current mouthful, looking up at his friend for a moment as if to ask if he'd seen anything that might have turned Buchanan off from the meal. Sam shook his head in return, offering no insight.

Perhaps it was something on the plate that turned his nose away. Perhaps this was not the cuisine Buchanan was used to. Unfortunately, they could not change their meals to accommodate one person; however Steve had faith that Buchanan would grow to like the food after a time. With an understanding smile, Steve leaned in, pressing his hand to the teen's lap and giving his knee a squeeze. "Buchanan. Don't be afraid to try the food, love. You need to eat." He said, his voice low and soothing.

He'd expected the boy to accept his offer and dive in. He'd expected Buchanan to at least give him an understanding nod or a curt smile, or anything of the sort. What he hadn't expected was to find those crystal blue eyes staring back at him in panic or mistrust. He didn't expect Buchanan to suddenly glare down at the plate, as if it had personally offended him. And he certainly had not expected Buchanan to push his way from the table and stalk from the room; his eyes locked forward as he exited the room without speaking.

"Buchanan?" Steve called, his eyes widening as he pushed his chair back to follow him. He made it as far as the foyer where he spied Buchanan putting on his leather slippers and darting from the house. He watched the head of tousled brown hair dart into the gardens of the house, disappearing from sight as he stood in the hallway, alone. Steve was completely baffled by the whole thing. What on earth had that been about? He'd merely offered the boy the chance to eat some food! His mind wandered back to the night before, to Buchanan's rather prominent rib cage and bones, and he swallowed. Something was definitely wrong, and he aimed to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

But just as he'd reached for the door handle to follow the Consort out, he heard a voice behind him. Steve looked up to see Peggy staring at him, soft and reassuring, and his hand dropped.

"Steve... you know the rules." Peggy returned, offering her husband a gentle smile. "If the Consort wishes to be alone, you must respect that. Allow him some time to adjust. He may just be overwhelmed. I know... Angela was a bit skittish when I brought her home as well. It may just take him some time to get used to the house." Stepping back, Peggy opened her hand to the room, gesturing for Steve to follow her. "Come on... let him be alone for a time. Then if you must find him, do so."

Steve listened to his wife for a moment before he heaved a sigh. Well... so much for the good morning. In the 12 hours he'd owned Buchanan, Steve still felt like he was walking on broken glass around him. Still, he offered her a gentle nod in return, following her from the foyer back into the dining room. Angela, Sam and Darcy were staring at the two of them when they entered and he felt uncomfortable at their gazes. But he was a proud man, if nothing else; he simply raised his jaw, taking his seat across from them, and resumed his meal, trying his very best not to think of the Consort in his garden and what he must be suffering through at this very moment.

* * *

  
Buchanan sat with his back to the cobbled wall of the garden, his knees tucked up to his chest. Forlornly, he stared at an outcropping of flowers just to his left, feeling a gentle breeze washing over his figure. He shivered slightly, tucking himself further back against the wall. The teen had no idea how he was supposed to handle any of this. This was not what Buchanan was used to in his past. He didn't know if this was supposed to be normal...

And yet he couldn't stop thinking of the gorgeous face of his Master, smiling down at him, treating him as if the world revolved around him. Swallowing thickly, Buchanan stared down at his feet remembering the way his Master caressed his skin, cleansing the mud from his flesh in such tender strokes. He remembered how wonderfully he'd made love to him... made him feel like he was the stars in the sky and the light of his life. His heart fluttered quietly in his chest as he thought of the gentle blond with an Irish brogue and a heart of gold.

This was not what he knew in his past. And it, frankly, scared him with how badly he wished for more from Steve.

As he sat musing in the garden, Buchanan heard a rustle off to his side. He looked up from his thoughts and spied a small, gray tabby cat push its way from the brush just off to his right. He stared at the cat for a moment, watching as the little thing sat down in front of him and extended one tiny paw to him in greeting. The cat meowed, cocking its head to the side as it stared at the brunet in front of it, as if it could read what the Consort was thinking just from his body language alone. Buchanan was sure if it could understand and comprehend, it could read exactly how unsure he felt of himself.

His apprehension returned as he stared at the cat, taking in how minuscule and frail it looked. His eyes darted down to his own stomach and ribs, taking count of the bones he could see just barely poking through his flesh; he took stock of the inward curve of his belly and the prominent line of his hip bones. All too quickly, his hesitation returned to him as he swallowed, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Steve had seen it himself. Buchanan was not perfect, and his earlier outburst had only cemented that further to his Master.

Feeling low and incompetent, the teen reached out, plucking the cat from the dirt and resting it in his lap. The cat purred loudly at the attention, curling up in his lap like a small ball of fluff and immediately went to sleep. His lips creased into a smile as he ran his fingers up and down the tabby's back; he could feel the ridges of its spine through the thick fur, and he found himself entranced by the delicate bones beneath his fingers. He remembered his last Master had a cat. But back then, he'd not been allowed to play with it. He hadn't been allowed to do much of anything outside of what his Master had wanted.

Letting his head fall back, Buchanan stared up at the cloudless sky above him, and his mind wandered to just one year prior. He remembered it well, as if it had only happened yesterday...

_~_

_He'd been in the Tsar's care for a year. Bought out at the tender age of 16, Buchanan had been purchased from a private auction, and taken to the royal palace that very night. His new Master was old, older than most of the bidders that had shown up that night, but he had a kind smile and a caring touch that quickly drew the boy in. Buchanan, newly released to be purchased in the Union and sent to his very first auction, had been completely enthralled by this rich, powerful man that had seen fit to buy him and make him his own._

_In the beginning, things had been wonderful. Buchanan was treated like the most precious of gems, held on a pedestal for all to see and tended to for every ill, pain and discomfort he'd ever experienced. He was given a solid gold collar set with fine rubies and stones that shined like the sun against his creamy throat; he spent many parties held in the king's honor at his side like the loyal lover that he was, proudly wearing his king's mark for all to see. It quickly became known that Buchanan's collar was the most beautiful in all of Russia. He felt like a prince in these lands, held at the highest regard for all to see._

_Sex with the king had been rather simple. The man had just been too old to experience anything beyond the Missionary position. In fact, it had been quickly accepted that Buchanan should do all the work for his Master, to bring him the release he so desired from the boy, before he experienced his own climax. He'd quickly learned what brought the king pleasure and delight, what had turned him off completely, and precisely how to behave in his private company. Despite the lack of creativity in their sex, the Consort had fallen into complete devotion for the king that had picked him to love above all other Consorts._

_Buchanan had been so wooed by the old man, he'd not seen the signs until it was too late. The Tsar, Alexander, had never seen the teen as a human, nor a Consort. Buchanan, from the very beginning, had been nothing more than a trinket and a prize for the old man to flaunt before his people._

_As the months passed, the king's demands of Buchanan became greater and greater. He insisted the boy stay inside at all times, claiming that the sun would damage his flawless skin and turn him to leather. Then all too soon, Buchanan was not allowed to leave his rooms at all, save for special occasions when he should be present on his elbow._

_He then insisted the boy's meals become thinner and thinner; as Buchanan aged, his weight had gone up, filling him into a fine, well-muscled young man; this obviously irked the king, who desired a thin and willowy figure instead of the well-built boy he'd gotten. When his meals were lessened and grew fewer in number, Buchanan trimmed back down to the svelte figure the king wanted, though it cost him his energies and his health, often._

_Alexander's demands for his Consort's clothing grew to be less and less, until the teen was left to wear nothing but loincloths and thin shorts at all times, even in the cold chill of the Russian atmosphere. Days passed when Buchanan wouldn't be given clothing at all! When the king began to demand that Buchanan attend his parties completely naked, the brunet's uncertainty grew ten-fold. But he did as he was told, attending the Tsar's events in nothing but his collar, sitting proudly for everyone to admire. At least, during these events, Alexander would pet his hair and remind him what a good Pet he was..._

_Through all of this, Buchanan still remained faithful to his Master, though his own concerns for his Owner's sudden change in demeanor began to worry him, considerably._

_Then, the artists came to present their works to the king, and his fascination for Greek culture took a dangerously strong turn. The palace began to boast the emblem of the Greek Hydra in almost every piece of art that was present, and he turned his attention to Buchanan in a new light: as his Greek slave. He had the boy's bed removed from his rooms, and left him with nothing but a chaise lounge. His meager meals were replaced by fruits and hazelnuts, day in and day out, to improve the boy's flavor and coloration._

_Then, much to Buchanan's surprise, Alexander began to demand the boy be decorated in bright silver and gold paints when present for large galas. First, it was nothing more than small designs and artistic touches. His appearance at the quickly growing number of events was spoken of by many as dignitaries and nobles from across the world came to look upon the gorgeous visage of the Tsar's Consort. But it seemed small designs were not enough for them. They demanded more and more still to make the boy as ethereal and statuesque as possible. Soon, Alexander ordered that the teen be presented at the near daily parties and events, completely nude and painted from head to toe in the gold and silver paints. It became such a regular occurrence, his skin soaked up the leaflet until he felt stiff with the touch, his hair thinning from the thick paints that stifled his follicles._

_Even still, he looked gorgeous and many continued to travel long and far to gaze upon this living statue in the possession of the Russian king. When the public galas began to lessen, Alexander hosted private parties for his friends and companions. During these events, Buchanan would sit at the center of it all, bedecked in the elegant paints and poised in sultry positions for the audience to admire._

_Buchanan did everything he could to maintain the high standards that Alexander held him to. After all, his Master had chosen him above all the other Consorts. That had to be love, right? He adored his Master beyond reason, and wished only to see the old man smile once again. It had been too long since the teen had seen his Master smile..._

_He remained stoic and calm, even when the Tsar's friends grew too curious to keep their hands from the boy's chest and arms; they caressed and touched his face and body often, to admire his beauty up close and personal. And when these parties would end, Buchanan would be taken to the king's bedroom to satisfy him throughout the night. He did what he could to continue to please his Master in the bedroom, even when the king demanded Buchanan remain painted in his usual colors until the sweat from their sex ran the paint down his body and stained the bedding._

_Even still, Buchanan could sense that a change had overtaken Alexander. His touches grew fewer and farther between. His meals lessened further still, until he went days between feeding. Their sex grew to be less and less, until Alexander had seen to it that the boy was only summoned on special occasions. The only time the king seemed to hold the same adoration for Buchanan was when the boy was painted entirely in the metallic colors of his purpose, posing naked for the world to see. Emotionless..._ expressionless _...._

_Buchanan knew that there was something wrong. He just hadn't expected the magnitude of this problem to be as dire as it was. One year after being purchased, Buchanan was summoned from his rooms and taken to the king's chambers, still decked in gold paint and shivering from the cold that touched his naked body. As he entered the chamber, Buchanan's eyes landed on the king almost immediately, as if he'd been trained to see nothing else in his life._

_Alexander was seated at his desk, and at his side was a man; this man was balding and wore spectacles. Buchanan recognized him after a moment. The man was Jasper Sitwell, a notable member of the Consort Union, and the very person that had delivered the documents to the king when Buchanan had been purchased._

_"Master... You summoned me?" Buchanan asked, his voice low and unsure. Why on EARTH would Sitwell be here, at this late hour? He'd not seen him at the party earlier this evening. Buchanan shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his painted torso. Fingerprints and smears could be see in the gold metal on his skin. The party goers had been particularly voracious in touching him this evening..._

_Alexander looked up to the boy, eyeing him carefully before sighing heavily and motioning for the teen to approach him. Buchanan swallowed, not liking the look in the old man's eyes one bit as he made his way across the room._

_"Buchanan.. my dear boy, you remember what I told you, the night I purchased you?"_

_Buchanan nodded, looking up at Sitwell for a moment before speaking. "Yes. You said that I was the most perfect of Consorts you had ever seen... that my position as your Consort could be a gift to the world."_

_"That is correct." Alexander stated, turning and facing him fully. "Maids, clean the paint from his face."_

_Buchanan held still, watching as a maid stepped forward with a wet rag. She wiped the paint from his face, running her fingers over his cheek as she worked. Buchanan could feel her fingers catching on his skin, and he frowned. Without permission, the Consort reached up, rubbing his fingers over his cheek. What had once been smooth, flawless skin, was now flecked with dozens of blemishes and bumps, his skin irritated and clogged by the paint he wore daily. He blinked, wondering what on earth this had to do with the Tsar summoning the Union worker._

_"I see you have discovered the source of my dissatisfaction." Alexander said, looking up at the boy with a careful, cold eye. "It is not just your face that has been ravaged by these blemishes and imperfections. Your entire body has taken on a blight that I cannot tolerate in my palace. Your eating habits have also become impossible to adhere to, and your figure has fattened up beyond what I deem appropriate in my bed."_

_Buchanan felt as if he'd been slapped. He stared down at his Master, his eyes wide in shock. How.. how could he SAY these things?! Buchanan had grown up in the Consort Union, and taught that a Master's love for their Consort went far beyond the skin-deep attraction that brought them together. After a year... SURELY, Alexander would have grown to love him for what he was, and not what he appeared to be. "But... Master..."_

_"Refrain from using that term, boy." Alexander snapped, getting to his feet and glaring at Buchanan. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the gob-smacked teen, his eyes roaming over his figure before he turned away. "You are not to address me as Master, any longer. I have sent for the Union to retrieve you straightaway. Your imperfections have become an embarrassment to my name and my palace. Sitwell, please take this boy with you back to the Union. See to it that my ownership of Buchanan is recanted."_

_Sitwell looked to the shocked teen, meeting his gaze for a moment before he reached out and took the teen's elbow. Buchanan felt a wild urge to fight off his grip. No one was to touch him but his Master! "Master! Please! I will do what I can to right these imperfections! I.. I can refrain from food! I can cleanse my skin better! PLEASE!" Buchanan begged, dropping down to his knees in front of his Owner. "Please... don't send me back!"_

_The king simply tisked at him, stepping out of his reach and turning his back on him. "I said, remove him from my sight! I will return to the Union in two days' time to find a replacement."_

_Buchanan felt tears springing to his eyes as he watched the king turn his back on him, utterly rejecting him from his presence. He'd grown up in the Union; he knew that any Master or Mistress that returned a concubine with due reason, put a scorn on the Consort's name for good. Many who were returned, were never bought again. This man.. this king he'd grown to love for a year, had done the unthinkable. Alexander had condemned him for life. "... MASTER!"_

_"REMOVE HIM FROM MY PALACE AT ONCE!" Alexander bellowed, whirling on the boy as he glared down at him. Guards flanked the Consort and the Union worker, ready to throw them both out bodily if they so much as resisted. Alexander leveled one last, withering glare at the boy he'd owned and rejected so easily before turning his back on him for good._

_Buchanan felt his heart shattering as he was guided to his feet. His eyes never left the man before him, even when he felt Sitwell unclasp the gold collar from his throat and remove it entirely. He felt so vulnerable. Despite having gone nude for so many days, once his collar had been taken from him, Buchanan felt like he'd been gutted and splayed out for the world to see him at his lowest. He felt like nothing more than a SPIT of human being: disgusting, ugly and never to see the light of day again._

_He barely remembered the carriage ride from the palace. He barely remembered when he was registered back into the Union. All he remembered was when he was taken to his chambers to sleep and be cleansed of the gold paint that had still flecked off of his skin like little leaves. He should have thanked the Union workers that cared for him so gently. But he didn't. Buchanan never spoke again after that day._

_He remained in the Union for a year, until the summer after his 18th birthday. During that year, the blight to his skin had cleared up until he was smooth and flawless once again, and he quickly became the envy of the other Consorts that lived there. But still, the boy did not eat, unless he felt sick with undernourishment. He did not dare look at himself in any reflection. He knew he would only see the ugly boy that the Tsar had returned; the boy Alexander had not even loved at all. Even a year later, the line of his neck that had worn the Tsar's gold collar felt bare and cold._

_He feared he would never be selected by an Auctioneer to be taken anywhere, ever again. Why would they? He was an ugly, imperfect boy that no man would ever want._

_So it came to his surprise when he was selected by a beautiful woman with fiery red hair to be sold at a large Auction in London that very summer. She was beautiful and kind, and he grew to like listening to her talk during their travels to England. He still didn't speak a word... but he at least felt a little more humanized in her presence._

_When they arrived in England, Buchanan knew he had to make the Union proud; despite the doubts and self-loathing he carried within him, Buchanan poised an air of authority he hadn't exhibited in a very long time. He held his head high and proud, and remained true to the namesake of his position. After all, when he learned what his bidding price would be, the boy knew that he should act the price he was. But even still, he knew no one would truly want him. Maybe someone with a fat wallet that wished to make a point to buy such an expensive Consort. But that was it. No one would truly come to love him..._

_After all, why would anyone love a boy as hideous as he?_

_~_

Buchanan's eyes snapped open as he stared down at the cat sleeping in his lap. The pang of his memories rattled through him like a a shiver, and he fought the tears as they welled up in his eyes. No. No crying. Crying would only make him appear uglier than he was. Sure, Steve had told him he was beautiful, but how long would that last until he, too, saw the imperfections and the disaster that was his Consort and return him? Not long, it seemed. Steve was far too perfect in his own right.

It was true. Buchanan had seen that blond man enter his lounge the night before, and the teen had sworn he'd seen an angel standing before him. Steven Rogers, Captain of the Army, had been nothing short of perfection; Steve was masculinity and beauty, with his blond hair, strong jaw and beautiful lilting brogue. Hell, he'd even brought Buchanan the most glorious orgasm he'd had since his work began as a Consort. Alexander had never brought Buchanan to the cusp of pleasure like that. Perhaps it had been because Alexander had believed Buchanan was not worthy of such a release; he'd never seen him as more than a trinket, anyway.

The Consort forlornly petted the cat, his mind settling on one thought: Steve would see that he was imperfect, with his ugly accent and unshapely body, and readily return him to the Union before the week was done. Buchanan would be ruined... no... _useless_  for life.

As he stared down at the cat in his lap, Buchanan felt the pangs of despair welling up once again, choking him until he could barely breathe. Steve would see his imperfections. But... maybe... he'd still grow to love him?

He doubted it. After the way he'd behaved around him, he was surprised the Union workers hadn't already come looking for him.

But... _maybe_...

Buchanan looked up to the house, staring at the ornate, brick exterior. He chewed his lower lip as he carefully thought this over. He'd behaved well for his Master last night. The collar, though silk and simple, had not been removed yet. Perhaps he could salvage his place in Steve's life? Perhaps he could MAKE Steve love him? He'd already deemed that he could find himself devoted to this man. He was kind and loving and beautiful... Buchanan knew it wouldn't take much for him to worm his way into his heart. He would devote himself utterly to Steve. Now he just needed to make sure Steve would devote himself to the _consort_.

With his mind made up, Buchanan clambered to his feet. He held the cat close to his chest, as if the feline were a protective shield, and held his head high. He crossed the garden in proud strides, making his way inside and setting the cat to the floor. Obviously, the feline belonged to the household, as he watched the cat curl up on the foyer bench as if he belonged. Smiling to himself, Buchanan made his way into the house, looking everywhere for his Master.

He found him quickly. Steve and Peggy had gone to the sun room after their meal to enjoy the warmth of the rays and a quiet day of nothing to do at all. Peggy was hard at work on a piece of crochet, her Consort sitting at her feet happily. Steve sat across from her, reading the newspaper. Buchanan stared at his Master for a long moment, hiding in the darkened hallway just beyond the sun room. It took him a few moments to summon the courage, but once he had, he strode into the room with all the confidence he could muster up.

His actions obviously caught his Master's attention, as Steve looked up to see Buchanan approaching him. However, before he could speak, the Consort dropped down into his lap, wrapping his arms around his Owner's neck. Buchanan leaned in, letting the tips of their noses brush in a gentle caress for just a moment before he delved in. He pressed his Master into a hungry kiss, their lips caressing, teeth clashing together until they clicked audibly. Without waiting for permission, Buchanan pressed on, prodding his way into Steve's mouth until their tongues danced and swirled around each other, tasting and feeling the other's warmth. They fought for dominance for a brief moment, Buchanan pressing himself flush to Steve's chest. He felt the older man wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him close until he was practically on top of his Master. This was definitely a kiss they could both lose themselves in.

Buchanan moaned slightly; the sound was barely audible, but it was enough to send a vibration through Steve's body. The heat between them grew and grew until his skin felt  _alive_  with pleasure and warmth, tingling down to his very toes and spiking his nerves with fire.

All too soon, the need to breathe trumped their kiss. Buchanan pulled away, staring down at his Master as he panted heavily for breath. Twin gazes of lust and desire met them both; Steve's eyes were blown wide with desire, the rings of blue obscured by his pupils again. Buchanan decided he loved seeing Steve look just like this, flushed and hungry for his body.

Flashing him a small smile, Buchanan leaned in, letting their already spit-slicked and swollen lips brush in a whisper of a caress for just a moment. He then pulled back, teasing his Master with the action before he clambered from his lap. With a sultry twist of his hips, Buchanan turned away, grabbing a book from the shelf, carefully bending so that Steve had nothing but a clear view of his ass.

With his book in hand, Buchanan departed from the room, leaving the two spouses stunned in his wake. He felt dirty, playing as low as he did. But if the look of desire that had crossed Steve's face was anything to go by, he'd obviously made an impression on the man. Perhaps, if he kept this up, Steve _would_ grow to love him, just as Alexander never did. Buchanan surely hoped so...

He'd discovered he could definitely grow to love Steve deeply and wholly; he _could_  give himself entirely to this blond angel that had found it in his heart to choose him. He couldn't be rejected now. It would shatter him beyond repair...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut to be had in chapter 4, coming soon!


	4. Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve spends a day by himself, thinking on his relationship with Buchanan. After a quiet evening in, Buchanan and Steve come to an understanding between each other, and boundaries on Owner and Pet are finally settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THIS ENTIRE WEEK OF ME TRYING TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER WAS FREAKING CURSED I TELL YOU. CURSED. It took me FOREVER to find a chance to actually edit the chapter after I FINALLY finished writing it, and I'm currently sick at the moment, so I'm REALLY hoping that my edits went well. 
> 
> OK OK OK SO I FINALLY DELVED INTO THE BDSM THAT WILL BE TAKING PLACE IN THIS STORY!!!! *excited and nervous squeals* I'm praying SO HARD that I did well, since this is my very very FIRST time writing anything remotely BDSM, and SURPRISINGLY, I went way harder than I anticipated for my first try. Anyway, please please please, if I messed up at all, let me know. The last thing I want to do is offend anyone who knows more about what they are doing than I do. I did copious amounts of research, but since Ive had no experience myself, I'm really praying that I did alright. (Considering I dont want to make the same mistakes as a certain famous author did and totally ruin an entire culture...)
> 
> SO YEAH! Longest sex scene I've ever written, hardest and kinkiest thing I've ever written... phew!!! Please lemme know what you guys think, ok?! :D 
> 
> NSFW GIFS AND PHOTOS AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER
> 
> PLEASE READ THE END NOTE WHEN YOU ARE DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER, THANKS!!!!

It was days like these that Steve wished he was still an employed man. The retired life was nice and all, but on such warm summer days where there were no chores to be done, nor tasks to be completed within the city, he couldn't shake the unyielding itch that he needed to be doing _something_ to pass the time. Of course, habit lead him to think immediately of spending quality bonding time with his Pet; but with Buchanan acting rather out of sorts around him, he didn't think it was wise to push the boy into spending more time than he was actually comfortable with.

In short, Steve was bored. After spending an aggravatingly uneventful morning with his wife, and the confusing behavior of his Pet further straining his nerves, Steve had far too much nervous energy to burn. It didn't take him long to decide what he wanted to do to waste a few hours of his day, and he quickly made up his mind on his predicament; he'd taken a keen interest in physical activity during his youth and after he'd retired from the Army, he'd easily slipped back into the habit of maintaining a strong, muscled physique. Besides, nothing burned off nervous energy like a good run and a few dozen repetitions of exercise.

Deciding he'd had enough of reading for the time being, Steve bid his wife a good afternoon and made his way to the vacant bedroom to change into a sleeveless undershirt and some old pants he'd long since worn out of their daily use. He plucked a pair of old boots from the closet, lacing them up his ankles after he'd donned his outfit of choice, and departed from his rooms to fetch a canteen of water from Darcy. Slipping into the kitchen, he spied the little maid working away at a pile of dishes, and he smiled. "Darcy, I don't suppose I could trouble you to ask where you might have put the canteen, could I?"

Darcy looked up from her washing and beamed at him. "Aye, going out for another run, Steve? It's a beautiful day to do so!" she chuckled, turning for the cupboard and plucking the metal canteen from the shelf. Swirling it through the soapy water for a moment, the maid washed out any dirt that might have gotten caught inside and gave it a good rinse before handing it to her employer. "Will you be taking your Pet with you? I'm sure the boy would love to watch; you're definitely a sight to behold when you're off doin' your exercising business!"

Steve flushed. Of course Darcy would think to ask about Buchanan; everyone who knew Steve knew how fitfully he’d been waiting to bond with his future Consort. Unfortunate, really, that it hadn’t turned out to be as seamless a bonding as he’d hoped. He shrugged and scrubbed his hand over the back of his hair before shaking his head in response. "Ah, no. I don't think that would be wise at the moment." he said, his voice lowering as he thought back to that morning. After his Consort's odd departure and the sudden kiss that only served to confuse him further, he hadn't seen the boy since then. He had a feeling Buchanan had slipped back out to the gardens to sit alone and read; God what Steve wouldn’t give to figure out exactly what he'd done to cause the boy so much bother. "He doesn't seem interested in spending a great deal of time with me at the moment.."

"Nonsense, he's just shy!" Darcy shot back, giving her employer a smile before she playfully punched him in the shoulder. "You DID just bring him home at the wee hours last night, Steve. Give the boy a chance, he's only just arrived. And besides, you know exactly how strict your lovely wife is. If she thought there was a thing wrong with him she would have had you sending him back straightaway!"

Steve listened, heaving a relieved sigh. The Captain couldn’t fault Darcy for her reasoning; she was right after all. "I suppose you're right, Darcy. It isn’t fair to expect him to be comfortable with his new home right away.” Feeling a bit better about the whole thing, Steve leaned his hip against the kitchen table, his arms crossed over his chest in a relaxed pose; he smiled at her. “If I'm not back before supper, just leave a plate to the side for me, and I'll find it myself. I do know my way around a stove."

"You coulda fooled me, sir." Darcy shot back, grinning cheekily. "I do seem to recall the one time you burned water. I've never seen white powder appear at the bottom of the kettle before; that one was a new one for me!"

Steve blushed, thinking back to the disastrous affair. He'd been trying to make a pot of tea for his wife, while Darcy was away for a few days on holiday, and scorched the kettle beyond repair. Darcy had howled in laughter the minute she returned and was presented her ruined kettle by Sam; the teasing hadn’t ceased since. Still, he chuckled at the memory and tossed a napkin at her from across the room. "That's enough from you, Darcy! I'll be back later this evening."

"Take care! Enjoy the sun, Steve!" Darcy called, waving to him as he exited the house.

Steve smiled, waving back at her before making his way to the water pump in the back yard; he gave the handle a few good draws before he got the water flowing, filling up the cannister in his hand with cool well water. He glanced up at the skies above, soaking up the bright sunny day that greeted him in warm rays of light.

He very much enjoyed this place. Despite the chill of evening time, he was rather grateful that his wife had chosen Kensington of all places to live. Their home, situated in the most northern parts of the area and a quick jaunt away from Willesden, sat just a few short streets away from some glorious countryside. If he so chose, Steve could find himself taking his horse, Liberty, out for a ride through the landscape and enjoy solitude, while still remaining close to civilization should he need to stop for any reason.  They had the luxury of the local train station, and easy access to carriages that could take them directly into London City whenever they wished to travel to the more populated areas; it was a trip Steve often looked forward to. He loved the excitement of London, with its bustling market and the shimmer of the River Thames. He'd been there many times over the past couple years, in his search for a Consort.

Steve considered himself lucky. While he didn't think himself an extravagantly wealthy man, he had a lot more than most could boast. Their location of home had the luxury that offered them the opportunity to own indoor water pumps they could utilize for baths and kitchen use, and the countryside offered up a vast array of land to explore and picnic in on warm summer days. They even had their own stables that stood just a short five minute walk from their house.  But most of all, Steve loved the fact that their home harbored a remote feel that catered to his need for privacy. While he enjoyed his jaunts into the city, he didn't think he could bare the thought of living in such close quarters that the city offered; he'd had well enough of that in Brooklyn.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Steve shouldered the strap of his canteen and took to the dirt road that would take him to the stables. He'd get his run in for the day; but first, he had a few other exercises he wished to tend to. After a quick walk down the lane, Steve stepped into the stables, inhaling the musky smell of hay and country. He smiled, relishing the comforting aura that surrounded him; this was his life, and he wouldn’t dare have it any other way. “Liberty? I know you’re awake, girl.” he muttered, his voice carrying over the quiet stables. 

From the nearest stall, a blonde thoroughbred poked her head out from the stall, nickering at her rider for attention. Steve laughed, imagining that the poor mare had probably been sleeping when he’d called to her. "There you are. It's good to see you this afternoon, girl." Steve cooed, walking to her stall and running his hand along her blaze. The horse whinnied quietly, bumping her nose into his chest as she snuffled, smelling for any treats he may have brought with him. "No, no." Steve chuckled, scrubbing his fingers along her jaw. "Not today, girl. I'll make sure to bring you a bushel of apples tomorrow though. Does that sound alright?"

Liberty huffed, nudging his chest again before she turned back around in her stall to munch on some feed. Steve laughed, admiring her vigor and spirit; she really was a stubborn girl, that was for sure. Liberty had long been a wonderful companion to Steve; he'd ridden her in plenty of skirmishes in America, and then through the Zulu war, the two of them leading their regiment’s charge against the enemy. When Steve had retired from duty, Liberty had been given honors right along side him, and the two retired to the countryside with Peggy, Angela and Sam. Clearly, she was just as bored as he was; after an eventful career on the battlefield, surely the poor girl had begun to grow a bit stir-crazy; Steve could definitely relate to her frustration.

Steve grinned, turning away from the pouting horse and settled the canteen down on the hay strewn floor; he eyed up the crossbeam high above his head. “Might as well get to it then…” he murmured. Rolling his shoulders, the blond stood beneath the beam with determination written across his features. Then with a high jump, Steve leaped into the air, grabbing the crossbeam and taking a good underhanded hold of the wooden support. This was his usual routine: pull-ups until his arms could do no more, followed by abdominal curls with his legs draped over the beam for support.  Then when he'd finished, he'd complete dozens of sets of push-ups, then finish his routine with a spritely run through the countryside.

Gripping the beam tightly, Steve pulled himself up, biceps and shoulders flexing intensely as he lifted his bodyweight, over and over. The warmth of the day ebbed into the stables, causing a fine sheen of sweat to glisten across his brow as he worked. It didn't take long for his top to become drenched in sweat, the cool, damp shirt sticking to his back. Still, he pressed on, determined to complete his set to failure. Dozens of long sets later, he could finally feel his arms beginning to quake against the strain of his weight. "One more..." he grunted, lifting himself until his chin cleared the beam.

Feeling satisfied with his progress, the blond swung his leg around, hooking it on the beam as he dangled himself by his knees from the wooden bar. Giving himself a moment to get used to the vertigo, Steve closed his eyes, inhaling slowly to settle his head. When he’d grown accustomed to hanging upside down above the dirt floor of the stables, he crossed his arms over his chest and began his task, curling in on himself in a sit-up that battled gravity in its heavy pull. His shirt pulled up, pooling around his chest as he worked, further soaking up the sweat that built up on his skin. From below him, Liberty watched as she lazily chewed on her feed, her tail flicking from side to side; Steve always had an audience while he worked.

"Oh don't mind me, old girl. I don't suppose you could hand me that canteen, could you?" Steve panted, dangling from the beam as he stared at his horse, upside down. Liberty only nickered in response, tossing her head as she stared at him ruefully. "I see... if I want any help around here, I'd best bring those apples with me, eh?" Steve chuckled, finishing up his repetitions before dropping down to the ground. He landed heavily on his feet, swiping his hand over his sweaty brow as he grabbed for the canteen and took a heavy swig. He thought about his final set, but opted instead to take on his jog while he could; the sun was already low in the skies, and he hated running in the dark. "Alright, Liberty. Keep an eye on the house for me, would you? I'll be back in a bit." he added, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her nose. Steve left the stables behind, settling his canteen down on a bench outside the stables; he gave his neck a slow roll to loosen any tension he felt, and set off down the dirt road, strong legs pounding the ground beneath him as he sprinted in a race against the impending sunset.

Running... that's when he felt truly alive. With the wind tossing his sweaty hair about and the sun bearing down on him, Steve felt as if he could get lost in himself and let his mind wander in privacy of his thoughts. People had often asked Steve why he took so much pleasure in such a strenuous activity. He’d simply replied that no one could get into his mind when he ran, and with his body moving in such an automatic and instinctual manner, he didn’t have to think about anything but his own thoughts.

Of course, that was when his mind decided to remind him of the reason he'd decided to take this run in the first place: Buchanan. He didn't understand why it was, exactly, that his Pet seemed so... bipolar in his actions. Close and affectionate one moment, then distant and cold the next. Steve couldn't shake the thought that his behavior had had something to do with a previous Master or Mistress’ ownership of him. Sure, he could assume that he was Buchanan’s first Master, but Steve highly doubted it. It didn't seem logical that a first time Consort would fetch such a high price tag. Then, there was the oddly cryptic statement that Natalia had said: never ask the past of a Consort. Surely, he'd had something in his ledger than had done something to his psyche, leaving him this unpredictable in Steve’s hands. Briefly, Steve wondered what he was to do with this unpredictability. Was he to endure the weird behavior and just deal with it? Was he to discover a way to break this negative thinking his Consort obviously harbored? Was he to simply give up efforts and return Buchanan to the Union to find another Pet in his stead?

Steve instantly tossed out that last idea; there was no way in hell that he would be willing to return such a beautiful boy without at least trying to discover a solution to his problem. Sure, he had some baggage to release, but he could get past that. He could train the boy to appreciate life as it was, and not just as the service he provided. Steve was sure he could break down his walls and teach the boy that life was worth living and loving, even outside the bedroom.

After what seemed like ages, he came to a halt outside the stables; Steve panted heavily, pressing his hands to his knees for support as he inhaled great, gulping breaths of air. The sun had dipped below the horizon at this point, its previously warm and golden rays giving way to the soft pastels of pink and blue as night impended on him. Wiping his hand over his face, Steve staunched the flow of sweat from his brow and dried his hands on his pant legs. But just as he turned to grab the canteen from its perch, he heard footsteps coming down the lane towards him and he looked up.

"I thought I might find you out here." Peggy called, smiling as she made her way down the lane towards her husband. Smiling brightly, she held up a towel to him, waving it slightly as she tilted her head at him. "You put in a lot of effort this time, didn't you? Is something wrong?" she asked, staring at the drips of sweat that ran down his body. Steve just shrugged, looking down at himself and dismissed her question.

"I may have just pushed myself a bit harder than usual. I've been a bit out of practice." he replied.

Peggy smirked, her eyes ghosting over his muscled figure. "You could fool anyone with that statement." she replied, tossing him the towel. "I came to let you know that Darcy has just finished dinner, and she told me to tell you that if you didn't eat it hot, she was going to be very cross with you."

Steve laughed, wiping his face dry with the towel as he followed his wife down the lane. "Well, in that case, I shouldn't disappoint her. Where's Angela? I would have assumed she would have come with you to fetch me."

Peggy snorted, punching him in the shoulder. "I am not always attached at the hip with my Pet, Steve. How rude of you to think so."

Steve shook his head, rubbing his shoulder where she'd punched him and gave her a bright smile. "I am sorry, I shouldn't be so rude as to assume that."

"No, indeed you shouldn't. As for where Angela is, she is back at the house, rousing Buchanan to eat. It seems the boy fell asleep shortly after you left to go on your run."

Steve paused, looking down at her. "He fell asleep in the garden?" he asked, sounding a little surprised.

Peggy paused, looking up at him with a confused look on her face. "Garden? No, he wasn't in the garden."

"Oh.. then where was he?"

Peggy watched her husband for a moment, the confusion melting away into a soft smile. "He fell asleep on your bed, Steve. I found him, myself. He was dead to the world, and he had your pillow wrapped up in his arms. I think he fell asleep while reading your copy of Poe's "The Murders In The Rue Morgue". Funnily enough, I think he got farther into the book than you did."

Steve paused on the path, watching his wife as she continued on her way. She didn't look back at him as she walked back to the house, though the haughty sway of her hips told him everything he needed to know: she knew he'd been worried about the boy’s affections towards him. At least Steve could rest easy, knowing that Buchanan at least harbored some sort of admiration for him, even if he wasn't adept at showing it openly.

Smiling again, Steve resumed his walk, his feet feeling lighter than ever as he left the country behind to return to his little world. Perhaps things would finally get better after all.

 

* * *

 

After a quick washing up, Steve had gone to the dinner table to find the others already sitting and eating. Buchanan sat to his left as he had that morning, though he pointedly ignored the food once again. Steve sighed to himself, but said nothing as he sat and ate with his family and friends. As much as he wished to urge the boy to try and eat, to at least appeal to Darcy’s efforts, he made good on his vow. He would not push Buchanan to do anything he felt uncomfortable with, even if it meant eating. They ate in relative silence and once dinner had been finished, they all retired to the lounge to enjoy a couple hours of each others' company. Steve sat by the fire, a book in hand, and relished the warm aura that the flames gave off into the room. At his left, Buchanan sat on an elegant pillow, his legs tucked up beneath himself. He didn't read this time; instead, he simply stared into the fire as the others about him sat and chatted idly to one another.

Across the lounge, Peggy sat in her chair, her crochet once again in hand as she worked on a sweater for her husband. Angela sat happily at her feet, her head resting in her Mistress' lap. Every so often, Angela reached up and straightened a thread of yarn for her Mistress, earning praise from her for being so helpful and attentive. Sam, having been hard at work on his ledgers, gave up his work for the night and had left the lounge a few moments prior to fetch a bottle of brandy for the group.

Glancing up from his book, Steve watched Angela and Peggy. The two of them had all the focus in the world for each other, talking and giggling amongst themselves as Peggy worked diligently on her sweater. Angela teased her Mistress for a missed thread, earning a scandalized look from Peggy before the two burst into another fit of giggles. Steve had never seen another couple so happy in his life. He sighed, looking down at his own, painfully silent Consort. While Angela was as close and affectionate to Peggy as ever, Buchanan _still_ didn't move to touch or acknowledge his Master. In fact, he looked almost tense and uncomfortable in his spot as he stared at the open flames in front of him.

But, before Steve could think to open his mouth and speak to the teen at his side, Sam re-entered the room finally, carrying a tray with brandy and a plate of sugar powdered jellies for the group. "I do believe Darcy was hard at work today!" Sam chirped, smiling at them as he set the tray down on a table and took a brandy. "It's been ages since she's made Turkish delight!" 

"Ooh, is it rose?" Peggy asked, leaning over and plucking up a square from the tray. The powdered sugar fell away to reveal a layer of pin gelatine beneath and she smiled. "Oh wonderful. My favorite!" she quipped, holding up a piece for Angela to take.

Steve relaxed, glancing down at the tray before them as he picked up a piece for himself. He took a bite, relishing the sweet flavors as he glanced down at his Consort. "Buchanan, would you like to try a piece?" He asked, offering a slice to his Pet.

Buchanan didn't react for a moment; when he finally did, he glanced up at his owner, eyeing the piece of candy in his hand before turning his nose away from the dessert in his hand.

Steve felt his cheeks flushing in embarrassment at the outright obstinate refusal given to him. He glanced up to see Peggy and Sam staring at him, their eyes wide. Pets didn't ignore their Masters; it just wasn't done. Clearly the hopes that Buchanan would improve his behavior quickly, had been dashed with that one, small action. Sam looked at his friend, offering him a small and sympathetic smile before grabbing his glass; granting them all a hasty goodnight he left the room before tension grew any higher.

Left alone, Peggy looked at her husband and offered him a small smile and a shake of her head. "Well... I think Angela and I will be going to bed now. Do enjoy the rest of your evening, Steve." she murmured, following Sam’s example. Rising from her seat, Peggy took Angela's hand in hers and tugged her for the door. However, she bent and pressed a kiss to her husband's forehead as she passed, smiling down at him in an encouraging manner. _'Give it time,'_ is what that look told him. She then left, tugging her Consort behind her as she left the two of them alone in the room.

Steve sighed, placing the candy down onto the tray once again and picked up his book, nursing his wounded pride with good literature. If Buchanan was going to ignore him, then he'd best make good of his time before he was tired enough to sleep.

Minutes crept by and the two of them sat silently together. Now that they were alone, Buchanan visibly began to relax, leaning his shoulder just slightly into Steve’s leg where he sat. Steve, while irked by his earlier stubbornness, found himself intrigued by the slow transformation that occurred right before his eyes. He glanced down a few times to stare at the boy, and his heart melted somewhat. With his tension ebbing from his shoulders, Buchanan’s expression melted from uncomfortable, to content in Steve’s presence. Steve had to marvel at the sight of the boy; he was beautiful, with the way the firelight danced on his olive skin and reflected off of the silk collar around his neck, and now that the pinched expression had been wiped from the teen’s face, he looked positively angelic in the firelight. Steve's embarrassment melted away entirely, and he settled his book in his lap to watch the boy for a time.

Buchanan, for his part, seemed completely unaware of his audience. Instead, he watched the dancing flames with vague interest, until movement at his right caught his attention. From the shadows the little gray tabby cat stepped out, inching its way over to Buchanan's side and crawling into his lap. Buchanan softened completely; he picked the cat up from his lap and wrapped his arms around the fluffy creature, cuddling it close to his chest; Buchanan smiled as he ran his fingers through the thick fur of the animal in his arms, murmuring sweet nothings in Russian, to the happy tabby cat in his arms.

“Do you like him?” Steve asked; Buchanan finally looked up at him, his eyebrows drawn in a questioning furrow. “Do you like the cat? I’m surprise he’s allowed you to hold him at all. He’s a very grouchy cat and doesn’t take kindly to many people touching him.”

Buchanan just nodded, looking down at the animal in his hands before he scrubbed his fingers underneath the cat’s chin. “I do. He is very soft.”

Steve smiled, his eyes darting over to the mop of equally soft hair on his Pet’s head. “He is. He belongs to Peggy, though we’re sure he runs the house when we’re not home. His name is Dooley.”

Buchanan huffed a quiet laugh, looking up at his Master. “ _Dooley_? That is interesting name.” he replied.

Steve chuckled, leaning forward to look down at the cat. The tabby was flicking his tail happily in Buchanan’s lap, rumbling a loud purr at the fingers that continued to massage his back. “It is an interesting name. I was told the name belonged to someone important to Peggy, though it was said with a hint of sarcasm, so I’m not entirely sure how sincere she was.”

Buchanan laughed again, looking down at the cat in his arms. He’d since turned the cat over in his lap to rub at his belly. Dooley grumbled in protest at him, swatting at his hand before grabbing hold of his hand and chewing playfully on his index finger. “He does not like when you rub his belly.”

Steve smiled; his fingers itched to do just that with the tousle of dark hair just inches from his hand. “No he doesn’t. But then again, all cats seem to have a distaste for that, it seems.” As he spoke, Steve inched his hand forward, carefully watching his Pet for any resistance against his actions. Buchanan did not move; he was too focused on playing with the cat in his arms. Feeling safe enough to do so, Steve gently touched the teen’s soft hair, brushing his fingers through the dark locks. He didn’t move quickly, nor did he tug; he simply pet his hair, letting his fingertips scrape over his scalp in soothing strokes.

Much to his surprise and delight, Buchanan did not pull away from him. Instead, Buchanan actually leaned into his hand, nuzzling his head back against the fingers ghosting over his scalp as he sought out more of those touches. Steve felt utterly elated, his lips spreading in a bright smile as he continued to stroke his hair. Feeling satisfied that he’d been allowed this moment, Steve turned his attention back to his book in hand. His fingers didn’t stop their touches, and Buchanan never once pulled away.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for another hour; Buchanan soaked up the attention Steve gave him, and Steve relished the chance to shower his Pet with the love he wanted so badly to give. However, as the clock chimed 10pm, Steve felt a yawn climb up his throat and threaten to break free. After the late night they’d had the previous day, he was starting to feel his exhaustion catch up to him. Stifling that yawn, Steve looked down at his Pet and gave his shoulder a gentle touch. “Buchanan. We should go to bed. I still have to bathe, but if you wish to sleep, you are more than welcome to.”

Buchanan only nodded in return, setting the cat down onto the floor. Dooley flicked his tail in annoyance at having to be put down and ignored for the rest of the night, and skulked off to prowl the house. Buchanan smirked, looking up at his Master before crawling to his feet and standing obediently next to him. Much to Steve’s surprise, Buchanan wrapped his arms around his waist and nuzzled up to him, pressing his cheek to Steve’s chest. It was a stark contrast to just an hour prior, where he wouldn’t dare let his shoulder even brush Steve’s leg, let alone hug him.

Steve hesitantly wrapped his arm around his shoulders, holding him close to his side with confusion written across his features. How strange… in the eyes of others, Buchanan wanted nothing to do with him. Alone, and he wouldn’t get off of Steve’s side. Now, more than ever, Steve wanted to get to the bottom of his Pet’s attitude and correct it before it spiraled out of control. He wasn’t about to have his Pet acting so improperly in front of others and humiliating him with such blatantly disrespectful behavior; he was his Master, not some love-sick man with an unrequited attraction to the teen. Besides, anything less than acceptable behavior between them, and they ran the risk of the Union seeing them as an unfit pairing and separating them.

Sighing heavily, Steve gave up trying to decipher the boy’s behavior for the night; instead, he held him close to his side and lead Buchanan back to their personal suites. Once the two were locked inside for the night, Steve turned to face his Pet, gesturing to the bed behind them as he spoke. “I will be to bed in a bit. Sleep, Buchanan. Get your rest.”

Frustrated and more than a little disappointed, Steve turned for the washroom, shrugging out of his robe as he went, and hung it up on a peg outside the door. Now, down to the simple clothes he’d put on after his afternoon run, he slipped into the bathroom, bending over the copper tub to fill it with water; he tossed in a few soap flakes, watching as they dissolved and foamed up before his eyes. He allowed himself a moment to ponder over the past 24 hours as he waited for the bath to fill; he didn’t really know what to make of Buchanan’s behavior, honestly, and no amount of self-reflection was offering up any answers to him.

Then again, Peggy didn’t seem really bothered by it, herself. Perhaps Angela had been the same way when she’d purchased her. He’d met and married Peggy, long after the two had been bonded; by then, Angela had already received her One collar from Peggy. Surely the two would have bonded at some point, despite any misgivings in the beginning. Perhaps he was just being too sensitive to the whole thing. Steve turned the knob of the bath and shut the water off, his mind clouded with his thoughts as he shrugged out of his shirt and pushed his trousers down his legs to climb in.

However, before Steve could fathom another thought, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind, and he gasped. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Buchanan behind him; the teen was already completely naked and kissing a line up and down Steve’s spine. His mouth fell open at the sudden onslaught of attention and he fought the shiver that threatened to climb up his spine at the kisses that teased his naked flesh so gently. Groaning in the back of his throat, Steve turned in the cradle of Buchanan’s arms, looking down at him. “Buchanan.. I thought you were going to bed.” He said; still, he let his arms trail down the teen’s sides and grip his hips in a firm clutch that held the boy to his front. Christ, Buchanan was already hard. Steve could feel the line of his cock pressed against his thigh and the meek little rolls of his hips as he rutted up against his leg. Steve swallowed, looking down at the teen as his Pet continued to kiss along the bare skin before him. “Buchanan… what…”

“You seemed upset…” Buchanan replied, cutting his owner off before he looked up at him. His eyes were hooded and dark, and his lower lip was caught between his teeth. Not waiting for Steve to reply, the brunet leaned in, pinning Steve’s legs back against the tub behind him and nearly toppled him into the bath. However, Buchanan managed to balance him, his hands trailing down Steve’s back to cup at his ass. He gripped the firm mounds in his palms as he dragged the older man closer; this action caused the two of them to grind into each other, the lines of their erections rubbing in a hot, slick of warm skin. Buchanan whimpered slightly, mouthing along the taller man’s collarbone before nipping the skin sharply. “Let me ease you…” he whispered. His hands moved from Steve’s ass to his hands; Buchanan took his Master’s arms in his own fingers, and pinned them behind Steve’s back, holding him firmly as he ground against his owner for much-needed friction.

Steve hesitated, staring down at the boy wrapped around him. His mind raced slightly as he watched the teen mouthing at his chest, their cocks brushing hot and heavy against each other and the hands pinning his arms behind his back. All at once, Steve realized exactly what Buchanan had been doing this whole time, and the nerve it pricked inside him made his vision tunnel, his cheeks flushing in irritation.

Buchanan was testing him.

It all made perfect sense now. Buchanan only showed Steve affection when they were alone. He only showed affection when they were having sex, or touching in some intimate manner. Any other moment, and he hadn’t the time of day for Steve. All at once, Steve realized that if he let this go on, Buchanan was going to get it into his head that _he_ was the Master and Steve was the Pet, to be pulled along, strung by on the hope that maybe the boy would show him some sort of attention.

Like hell was he going to allow that.

Eyes narrowed and a growl bubbled up from the depths of his chest; Steve broke free from his grip, snatching Buchanan’s wrists in his palms and yanking his hands back. He paid no attention to the look of surprise that crossed his Pet's face; he was too focused on breaking this boy's line of thought before it got any further out of hand. Instead, he manhandled the boy backwards, pushing him across the room until his back connected with the tall mirror that had been mounted into the far wall, and he stared down at him with a burning authority flashing in his blue eyes. “No.” He rumbled, glaring down at his Pet. Despite the heat of dissatisfaction in his eyes, his body had already responded to the touches, to the affection that Buchanan had teased him with. HIs cock stood rock hard from the angle of his hips, his cheeks and chest flushed dark red as he stared down at the boy in front of him. “I don’t think this is how this works.” Steve leveled his gaze down at the flushed teen, his grip resolute around Buchanan’s wrists. Without warning, he lifted the boy’s arms above his head and held his hands to the mirror behind them with an unyielding strength. He stepped into his Pet, pinning him against the mirror with his body as he let his lips graze along the teen’s in return. “What are you?”

Buchanan stared up at him, his eyes blown wide; he swallowed thickly, staring up at his Master with his mouth hanging open. “I.. I don’t…”

“ _What. Are.You._ ” Steve enunciated firmly; with each word, he accented his point, rolling his hips into his Pet’s and grinding him against the mirror as he spoke. His fingers tightened around Buchanan’s wrists, holding him firmly so that with each squirm, each shift the boy gave, his Pet would only feel himself pressed closer to the glass behind him. “Say it. What are you to me?”

Buchanan balked, his eyes wide and his pulse fluttered wildly under Steve’s grip. He shifted again, but this time it was to grind back against Steve, eliciting another wave of pleasure that rattled between them both. “.. I am your Pet…”

“Good. And what do Pets do?” Steve asked, his voice low and dominating; his deep timbre filled the air around them with a warm, electric current of lust and command as he spoke.

Buchanan hesitated, his eyes darting between Steve’s lips and piercing gaze. His cheeks flushed a dark red and his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips as he watched Steve carefully. Finally, he relented, a delighted and needy whine echoing in the spacious bathroom around them. “... we submit to Masters. We love them, and we do as they say, because our Masters love us and know what is best for us.” Buchanan whimpered, reciting the teachings he’d grown up with in a tone Steve had never heard from this boy; he sounded almost reverent as he spoke; his fingers curled against Steve’s hands as he shifted in his grip. Steve could feel the teen’s cock grow steadily harder against his groin, and the weak little ruts of his hips as he tried to seek out some friction from his Master’s body only served to fuel their growing lust. It was mind-numbingly arousing, seeing his Pet finally slipping into the role he was meant for at long last.

Steve’s eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushing darker still; the thrill of listening to Buchanan’s recitation of submission sent a shiver of pleasure through every nerve in his body. A heady, drunken excitement took hold of him and made his limbs heavy with want and his mind foggy with desire for this boy. God above, he’d never felt this way before, this… _powerful_ yet loving towards another person. He’d felt, from the very beginning, that Buchanan was his to love and care for… he just had no idea how titillating it could actually be. “That’s right… You will do as I say, when I say. You will not try to dominate me. You are _mine_ , Buchanan. I am your Master and I will always take care of you. Do you understand me?”

Buchanan whimpered, louder still, and ground up against his Master; he nodded eagerly to him, his swollen lower lip caught between his teeth as he huffed desperate breaths through his nose. “Yes… yes, Master… I do. I do!”

Steve watched him for a moment, nodding once he’d deemed that the teen understood and believed him. “Good…” he murmured. Without warning, he grabbed the boy’s hips and flipped him over, pressing Buchanan’s front to the mirror until the teen was nearly flush with the glass. He kept one hand wrapped around his Pet’s wrists, pinning them to the small of his back; his free hand, meanwhile, trailed up and down Buchanan’s bare side, grazing his nails across his smooth skin until he left red lines in his wake. “Look at this… look at you. You’re beautiful.” he muttered, pressing his lips to the crook of Buchanan’s neck. He kissed a lazy trail up the teen’s neck, nibbling on his earlobe before he pulled back to whisper in his ear. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life.. my perfect little Pet…”

Buchanan whimpered, his eyes darting from his own reflection to Steve’s; his breath fogged up the glass with each frantic breath he took. His hips rocked back against the groin pressed into the mounds of his ass, seeking out the friction of his cock desperately. Steve tisked, shaking his head as he ground into his ass, holding him immobile. “Don’t move… I’ll tell you when you can move.” he growled.

Despite his earlier demands, Steve couldn’t help but feel his own skin crawling with lust; he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in his concubine's tight little hole. The sight of Buchanan’s back, flushed pink and sprinkled with the beginnings of sweat, only made him more mad with want, and he huffed out a frustrated groan. He lifted his hand from the teen’s hip, pressing his middle and index finger against the boy’s lips. “Suck them.”

Buchanan obliged, opening his mouth instantly and taking his fingers in between his plush lips. He laved his tongue around the digits, suckling them until the spacious bathroom was filled with the sounds of his mouth slurping around his fingers, wetting them thoroughly; the sounds were accented with tiny whimpers, desperate and needy as Buchanan kept his eyes locked on his Master’s reflection.

Steve watched with open mouthed wonder, reveling in the sight of Buchanan’s lips working over his fingers to thoroughly wet them. “Buchanan… look at yourself.” He ordered. He felt a pang of satisfaction to see Buchanan’s eyes immediately snap from his reflection to his own, staring at himself as he suckled his fingers needily. “You’re stunning… I’ve never seen lips so perfectly red and full… those are truly the lips of an angel.” He cooed, leaning in and pressing his mouth to the boy’s temple in an open-mouthed kiss. He plucked his fingers free from Buchanan’s lips, watching as an obscene line of spittle dangled from his fingers, and he uttered a deep-chested moan. “Good boy... my good Little Star.”

Buchanan only nodded, still staring at himself as Steve moved his hand to his ass. Steve spread his cheeks with his middle finger and thumb to prod his index finger against the pucker of his hole. Pricking his finger into his ass, the blond pierced his Pet’s body right up to the third knuckle of his hand; Buchanan yelped at the sudden intrusion, but pressed back against his hand to seek out more of that delicious pressure splitting him open.

“Ooh… oh God, Master… auh.. please, more!” the Consort begged, his eyes roaming up to meet Steve’s once again. This time, he looked away from the mirror entirely to glance over his shoulder at him. Steve was floored to see his pupils had completely swallowed the irises of his blue eyes, making his Pet look haunting and wild. “I need… more… please!”

Steve panted, feeling his heart racing wildly in his chest; he felt high on this moment, watching his Pet submit to him so sweetly. If he had had half a mind about himself, he would be questioning where this dominating aura had come from; he couldn’t really complain, however. Something about seeing this teen bending to him, begging him for everything he could give him or completely at his mercy to accept if he stopped for whatever reason… it opened up a deep, primal instinct inside him Steve had no idea he harbored. It was intoxicating. It was _addicting_.

And yet, Steve knew he could never deny his Pet what he needed. That same fluttering pleasure in his chest didn’t just come from the mind-blowing high of his domination. It was devotion for this Consort, and he knew without a shred of doubt that he was never letting his boy go, for as long as he lived. “Alright, Buck… You’ve been so good.” Steve cooed, smiling at him as he pressed his lips to his swollen ones in a chaste kiss that sent sparks through his body like a livewire.

With his promise, Steve gently prodded his middle finger into the boy’s ass; he split him apart as he spread his fingers, massaging and stretching the muscle around his hand as he finger-fucked him open. When Buchanan twitched at his intrusion, he slowed his motions, giving the concubine a chance to get used to the stretch of his fingers.

“M-master… please!” Buchanan whined, looking up at him; he looked fit to cry, begging with huge eyes for Steve to pierce him further, fill him up and claim him once again. “Call me that again? Please?”

Steve paused, looking at his Pet as he slowly scissored his fingers open, spreading him to prepare for a third finger. “You want me to call you Buck?” he asked, his tone shifting from the deep, commanding air to a more curious inquiry. When Buchanan nodded to him, Steve felt the corner of his lips turn up; he nodded at him, slowly releasing his arms from his grip. “Buck… you’re so beautiful… can you be good once more and hold your hands behind your back for me?”

Buchanan nodded frantically; he gripped his own forearms in a tight, interlocking grip as he held his arms behind his back for his Master.

Steve found himself impressed; Buchanan listened so well to him. “My perfect boy…” Steve whispered and pressed his lips to the whimpering teen’s temple. Steve lifted his free hand, threading his fingers into the back of his dark hair and gripped the dark locks gently by the roots. He tugged on his hair, pulling Buchanan’s head back from the mirror; he found a wry smile crossing his features as he saw the sweaty smudge Buchanan’s cheek had left behind on the glass. Keeping his Pet’s chest pressed against the glass, Steve leaned in, mouthing at the expanse of his throat that lay stretched out before him as he pulled his head back to suck deep bruises into his jugular. “My perfect… beautiful… love…” he muttered between each kiss.

Buchanan cried out at each kiss, each open mouthed suckle that marked his pale throat with another bruise. He rocked back against his fingers, feeling out for more friction inside his body. This seemed to do the trick, as Steve caught on that the teen was ready for more. Withdrawing his hand a few inches, he pinched his three fingers together and with a careful but firm press, began to thrust his fingers into his ass in a more steady, faster pace. “You love that, Buck… Tell me how much you love that.”

“Oh _GOD_! Love it! Oh God, m-more!” Buchanan cried out, his voice growing hoarse as he sobbed out his pleasure into the room. His hips squirmed back against his hand, begging for his cock. “Fuck… _p-please_ , PLEASE need you, Master!” He twisted his head in Steve’s grip, clearly relishing the burn of his hair being pulled. “I need… your cock!... _I need it now_!”

Steve hissed, feeling his ears burning with the power of his desires. His own cock had gone somewhat soft from lack of attention, but hearing his Pet begging to be fucked sent all his blood rushing to his prick. “Fuck... “ Steve grunted, drilling his hips into the boy’s ass; this action only served to drill his fingers further into his hole, and he found himself pleasantly surprised to see how deeply he could reach into his body. “Fuck yes. Don’t you dare move.” He demanded.

Buchanan wailed, but fought against his own, traitorous body’s need for movement. His fingers dug into his forearms until his nails cut little rivets into the soft meat of his forearms. Steve pulled back, plucking his fingers from his Pet’s ass. He found himself enraptured, staring at his gaping hole, the hot flush of his skin, and the sweat collecting in the boy’s hair. As much as Buchanan needed to be plugged and fucked, Steve equally needed to bury himself inside that body.

Without preamble, Steve spat into the palm of his hand and quickly worked his fist over the length of his cock until he was at full mast again. Feeling satisfactorily slicked up, Steve reached out and gripped his Pet’s hips. He pulled him back a pace, and pressed his hand in between his shoulder blades; with this action, he bent the teen slightly at his waist, keeping his front against the glass, and his ass displayed for him in all its beautiful glory. He made sure to rest Buchanan’s shoulder against the glass to save his face from taking the brunt of his motions against the mirror. But Steve had chosen this angle for a reason: he wanted to make sure his Pet saw absolutely everything he was giving as he fucked him from behind.

With his Consort in position, Steve gripped his cock in his palm, steadying it as he prodded the blunt tip against the quivering muscles that begged for his prick. “Don’t move your hands, Buck... you keep them right there behind your back.” Steve ordered, staring at his Pet in his reflection. When Buchanan only nodded in understanding, Steve took his chance. He thrust his hips shallowly against his hole, piercing him bit by bit until he’d managed to push past the initial wall of resistance. With the head of his prick inside his Pet’s body, Steve gripped his hips firmly, holding him steady so that he wouldn’t knock into the mirror. With a grunt of want, he thrust fully into his body with one, smooth glide. He gasped out as the tight ridges of his Pet’s walls swallowed his length up greedily, pulling him into his body every delicious inch he could give. He bottomed out in one thrust, his hips pressed firmly against the sweaty mounds of his Pet’s ass as he waited for the initial waves of pleasure to wane a bit. Steve groaned, biting his lower lip as he felt his legs trembling beneath himself; he had to wait… just a moment. He was not about to come before either of them were ready.

Buchanan only wailed harder, his voice punctuated as his Master filled him to the brim with his girth. His hand immediately shot out, gripping Steve’s hip to try and drag him further into his body and immediately breaking his promise to him to hold as still as he possibly could.

Instantly, Steve felt a stab of disappointment, and his brow furrowed. He pushed Buchanan’s hand away from his hip, and with a sharp crack, smacked his palm against the exposed flesh of his left ass cheek. He found his heart hammering wildly at the yelp his Pet uttered, and his eyes locked on the bright red mark on his Pet’s ass; he instantly became addicted to the sight of it. But this was not about his arousal. This was about discipline, and Buchanan had disobeyed his order, directly. “What did I say?” he growled, staring at him in his reflection. “You do not move your hands. You keep them where I told you to keep them.”

“Y-Yes… yes Master. I’m sorry…” Buchanan whimpered, staring at him in his reflection. Whatever sorrow he felt at not obeying him was clearly trumped by the lust his spanking had obviously sent through his body. Even still, Buchanan wrapped his fingers around his forearms again, gripping his arms even tighter as he fought against his own reactions to do exactly as Steve told him.

Steve watched him, his lips turning up from the frown into another smile. “Good. Very good.” he murmured. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to come so soon, Steve withdrew from his body, near entirely, and hesitated; he watched his Pet shivering at the friction that burned inside his body, wanting more, always more.

He couldn't wait any longer; His own body screamed for the need to fuck, and he gave into it readily. Gripping his Pet’s hips harder, Steve growled out a moan and snapped his hips forward, thrusting into him fast and hard. He pistoned his hips into him, splitting his Pet open with each hard thrust as he picked up a fast and desperate pace into his body. His own senses were heightened, his nerves on fire as he fucked him against the mirror, watching the teen cry out as he drilled his over sensitive walls with each thrust. He watched as his Pet’s cock bobbed against the motion, fully hard and weeping precum to the wooden floor below them as he claimed him for both to watch. “Fucking beautiful… oh Jesus, Buck, you’re fucking _beautiful_.” Steve panted, his hips never breaking pace as he pierced his ass, over and over.

Buchanan shouted, his voice edging on a scream. One particular thrust had found its mark, prodding his prostate and making him convulse slightly in Steve’s grip. His cheek knocked against the glass of the mirror, and a fresh smear of sweat could be seen against the glass. “FUCK! Master! Fuck, _fuck, auh_!!” he shouted, twisting desperately against the mirror; his fingers dug into his arms until his knuckles were white as he desperately held onto his arms just as he’d been told to do.

Steve looked down at his Pet, his hips never breaking pace as he watched his Consort struggling to do as he’d been told. He took pity on him, leaning over to press his lips against the back of his neck. “You’re doing so well, my love.” he hushed, looking at his reflection. With their faces so close against the glass, it was clear both could see exactly how devoted they both were to each other at that moment. “You’ve done so well… you can let go of your arms. Support yourself on the glass, Buck…” He whispered.

Instantly, Buchanan’s hands shot out, pressing to the glass to support himself as he fucked himself back against his cock, desperate for more. With his support fully on his hands now, Steve could let go of his waist; he wrapped his arms around his Pet’s middle, pulling him close. This new angle allowed for a more intimate roll of his hips as he drilled into his body; the wet slap of skin against skin was now fully audible between them as he rutted deeper into his channel. Steve lifted his left hand, gripping the teen’s jaw and twisting his head to pull him into a deep, plundering kiss.

Buchanan instantly latched onto that, kissing his Master back with equal fervor. Their tongues danced and darted into each other’s mouths, slurping and mouthing at each other’s lips with wild intent. They were far too close for this to go on any longer. But hell, they could not stop kissing each other, mouthing at one another’s lips until their flesh was swollen and spit-slicked, savoring their unique flavors and committing each other to memory.

Suddenly, Buchanan tugged his head away, pressing his forehead against the glass. “I’m… going to… Master!” He panted, desperately holding onto his sanity as he body fought to release his pleasure in a terrifying wave of bliss.

Steve felt a thrill of delight running through him; he, too, was close to release at this point, but to know that his Pet was fighting to hold on just a few moments longer gave him the knowledge that his Pet knew exactly whom he belonged to now. Gripping his Pet’s chest in his hand, he tugged Buchanan closer to him until his back was a line against his front and the two were pressed seamlessly together. This closeness didn’t allow for much withdrawal, but Steve didn’t care; he loved feeling his lover’s body splitting open for him as he fucked deeper still into his body to seek out that wild friction. “Let go Buck.. oh, _God_ , let go for me…” he demanded, staring at him long and hard as he found his prostate again. Without mercy, Steve rutted against the overstimulated nerves inside his Pet’s body, his cock twitching with the need to release.

It only took a few more thrusts before Buchanan was coming; when he did, he shouted out, his hoarse voice cracking loudly as he came, spurting his seed across the glass in front of him, his head lulled back against his shoulder for support. His channel fluttered wildly around Steve’s cock, stroking him in a vice-like grip as he twitched violently in his arms. Steve couldn’t believe it… Buchanan had come without him so much as even touching his erection, once.

He felt higher than ever, his mind whiting out as this realization, coupled with the unimaginable heat and pressure stroking his swollen cock inside his body, brought him over his own edge. Steve pulled back, his palms pressed against the glass to support himself. He bucked his hips into his ass, jarring the boy’s body against the mirror as his head fell back between his shoulders. Steve’s eyes locked on the ceiling above as he came with a growl, spilling into the still-twitching hole around his prick; he came so hard and so fast, his seed spilled out from his Pet’s ass, painting the insides of his walls and marking him again with his musk.

The two of them stood together, panting heavily; Buchanan slumped back against the mirror, with his front pressed to the glass; Steve stood with his fingertips digging into the same glass for purchase as his legs trembled violently beneath himself. He slumped, wrapping his arms around the teen’s waist, and he pulled him back against his chest. He pressed lazy kisses into the teen’s shoulders and neck, peppering his sweaty skin with his love as he breathed heavily through his nose. His lips found the sweat-stained collar around his Consort’s neck and he laved at it, tasting the boy’s sweat against his tongue as he mouthed at his throat happily. “Perfect…. beautiful… my Little Star..” he muttered, his words nonsensical as he uttered his praises. He slipped his cock free from his Pet’s body, the quickly softening prick pulling free from his abused channel with an audible, wet slide.

Buchanan didn’t respond; he simply slumped back against his owner’s chest, his limbs weak and loose as he leaned against him for support. The Consort stared at the ceiling above them, completely mindless as his body slowly came down from the high he’d just experienced. He limply turned his head at Steve’s responses, staring up at him with huge eyes. “Master…” he groaned, his voice wrecked and raw.

Steve felt a stab of pity in his heart at the pitiful sight of his Pet; he looked positively brutalized by the strength of his orgasm; his eyes darted to the pearls of sperm that ran down the mirror before them, and a wild smile crossed his lips. “Oh my poor love…” he cooed, pulling him into a weak kiss. Without warning, Steve scooped the boy into his arms, cradling him to his chest. He was grateful Buchanan did not argue this.

With the boy’s legs slung over his arm and his shoulder tucked into his chest, Steve carried him on unsteady legs from the bathroom into the bedroom. He carried him to the bed and carefully draped him across the plush mattress, stretching his legs out so the teen was lying comfortably on the bed. His eyes darted down between his legs and he spied the reddened, abused hole of his ass. Feeling somewhat bad for the ferocity of their sex, Steve gently ran his fingers over the twitching muscle, massaging his hole with his index and middle finger to relax the tension he must surely be feeling. Buchanan whimpered at the touch, and Steve smiled; he leaned down, grazing his lips over the trembling muscles of his stomach as he carefully massaged his hole back into relaxation. “You were so wonderful, my love..” Steve muttered, looking up at his Pet as he worked his fingers over the muscles in soothing circles. “You are truly a gift I will always cherish… I can’t express how bloody perfect you are…”

Buchanan whimpered, squirming weakly against his fingers as he sought out the gentle pleasure his index finger drew from the over-sensitive muscles. Steve smiled, looming over his Pet; he pressed his lips to his lover’s, kissing him gently but deeply, showing his concubine exactly how much he cared for him. Their lips caressed and pulled at one another, tongues darting out to lick against each other as Steve leaned over his Pet, tenderly caressing his heated skin. After a moment, Steve pulled back, staring down at his Pet lovingly before tugging the blankets out from beneath his Consort’s legs. He carefully draped them over his Pet’s body, covering him from the slight chill in the air. Buchanan could bathe in the morning; he was clearly too tired to move at all, let alone sit up in a bath. “Sleep, Buck…” he ordered, his voice low and tender.

“Yes, Master…” Buchanan replied, his voice drawled and slurred against the exhaustion that washed over him.

Steve chuckled, brushing his fingers along the teen’s jaw before he finally rose from his spot and padded, still completely naked, back into the bathroom to bathe. He closed the door behind himself, leaning his shoulder against the wood of the door as his mind ran rampant over the events that had just occurred. He never knew what that sort of devotion or that sort of love could feel like. He felt so… _powerful_ over Buchanan, but… that power had manifested in sheer desire to make his Pet feel so unbelievably good and loved. Buchanan had thrived on the commanding tone, the orders, and the control he’d exhibited over it. And needless to say, Steve knew he’d liked seeing his Pet thriving on the need only he could give Buchanan.

Shaking his head, Steve smiled to himself as he finally approached the bath. The water had long since gone tepid and the soap had dwindled away, but he was too tired to heat up more water. Instead, he crawled into the bath, slumping into the water as he let his mind roam over the night; he thought about his Pet and how much he cared for him. He thought about his own, wild pleasure in dominating the boy and making him his; he thought about how Buchanan had so willingly and happily submitted to him. Steve closed his eyes, his lips dancing into a tired smile as he let his mind wander over their sex with fanatical bliss.

 _‘Finally...’_ Steve thought to himself as he felt his heart flutter happily away in his chest at the thought of his beautiful Consort, whom had finally given himself to his Master in the closest and most intimate way possible.

* * *

 

Buchanan lay awake in the bed, his eyes boring into the far wall in rapture. The moment Steve had slipped into the bathroom, he’d opened his eyes again, timidly replaying the night over and over in his mind. He felt his chest constricting in happiness and his groin tingling in residual want, as he thought of the beautiful Captain that had commanded him so eloquently. His words echoed in his mind, replaying again and again. _‘ Beautiful.. perfect… good...'_  

It was everything he’d needed from a Master.

Without a doubt, Buchanan knew he was completely and utterly devoted to the blond; how could he have been so stupid to think that Steve didn't want him? Alexander’s actions had never held a candle to the kind of attraction Steve showed for him. Alexander had never told him he was beautiful. Alexander had never made him feel so absolutely wonderful or loved in his life. Only two nights in Steve’s house, and already Buchanan had already felt bliss beyond anything he’d ever experienced during that year in Alexander’s bed.

The Consort swallowed, feeling his heart hammering wildly as he thought of his Master, how he looked at him with attraction, as if Buchanan was a gift sent straight from the heavens to christen and bless his bed and home. He kicked himself stupid for acting so foolish around Steve earlier; how could he have logically believed Steve didn't want him? He remembered the way Steve’s eyes had lit up at the sight of him in the Auction hall, as if he’d fallen in love the moment he’d laid eyes on him.

Still, Buchanan couldn't shake the bone-deep fear that this, too, would pass. What if Steve grew tired of him after a time? What if this was just a phase... the excitement of having a brand new Pet. Once the novelty had worn off, would he grow tired of him and cast him aside for a younger, prettier Consort? Buchanan knew he was being stupid, but… he just couldn't shake the paralyzing fear that wracked him that that possibility of being rejected could come to fruition.

His breath caught in his throat as he heard the bathroom door click open. Instantly, Buchanan closed his eyes, feigning sleep; he listened as feet crossed the bedroom floor, soft and slow as if the person approaching the bed was trying hard to keep from waking the boy. The other side of the mattress dipped down as a weight joined him in the warm bed. Buchanan didn't move, even when he felt that weight scoot right up against his back, and a strong arm wrap around his waist. He felt Steve pull him flush to his naked front, cradling him close to his chest. He felt the blond press his lips to the collar around his throat, and his stomach clenched up.

Cracking an eye open, Buchanan stared at the far wall, feeling his heart thrumming anxiously in his chest. He kicked himself for his rash behavior and vowed, right then and there, that he would never act out against Steve again. Not if he wanted Steve to desire him forever.

Buchanan waited until the blond’s breath evened out behind him, the softest of snores echoing into the room. Once he was sure that Steve was asleep, the Consort gently threaded their fingers together, holding the hand that gripped his waist in a possessive and loving embrace. He pressed Steve’s palm to his stomach, holding him close. Once he’d safely taken hold of him, Buchanan tightened his fingers around his hand and closed his eyes, protectively holding his hand to his belly.

 _‘Don’t ever let me go...’_ he thought to himself, closing his eyes as he nuzzled back against the warm, broad body behind him. After so long, Buchanan believed he’d finally found his place in this world; after so long, Buchanan felt well and truly loved, safe in his Master’s arms.

* * *

  

 

This is not quite a mirror, but you get an idea of what their sex was like here :D

I cant even guys, Stucky has fucking ruined my life... I cant go a day without my Stucky fix....

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I SWEAR I'm getting back to my other works now!!!!
> 
> Side note: due to first time uses of bdsm, it was pointed out that there was no aftercare exhibited in this chapter. I'm utilizing this oversight as a way to demonstrate Steve's learning curve as a dom. In this chapter, this was the FIRST TIME Steve has ever exhibited domination in sex in his life, so he's still got some learning to do in caring for his Pet. Steve loves bucky. His oversight in the aftercare was simply the lack of experience, not because he didn't care about him. I just wanted to clarify that.
> 
> On that note, the beginning of chapter 5 will be incorporating the use of aftercare for this sex scene. It just happens a couple hours after their play ends, rather than right afterwards, to demonstrate that Steve's lack of experience, coupled with bucky's first time as a sub, they both are learning the importance of aftercare for both of them. Thank you guys for being patient with me!!!!!! :)


	5. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes and learns the importance of aftercare for his beloved Pet. Later, he urges Buchanan to express his fears and uncertainties, and the two bond finally, wiping away the pain Buchanan had felt for so long, as they finally express their devotion to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THIS IS MY APOLOGY LETTER FOR THE LAST CHAPTER OF P.S. I LOVE YOU! PLEASE ENJOY IT!!! BECAUSE IT'S SO GUT ROTTINGLY CUTE, YOU ALL MIGHT GET SOME DIABETES!!!!
> 
> Buchanan finally airs out some of his concerns to Steve (and he finally eats! Yay!), and Steve like a good Master, tells him that he is loved and beautiful and all that jazz. It's touching, its cute, its heartwarming. They are so in love it's disgusting lol. Anyway, enjoy this chapter! Lots of smut to come in chapter 6!!!

_Steve stared out over the arid plains before him; he shielded his eyes from the glaring sunlight that cast down over the African landscape with a slight frown etched into his exhausted features. The sun beat down on them all in harsh waves and brought the entire camp to their knees in heat exhaustion; Steve was no exception to this. A heavy sheen of sweat adorned his forehead as he wiped his hand across his brow to staunch the moisture from his features in a quick swipe of his hand; he sighed to himself and turned away from the barren landscape before him. It seemed there wouldn’t be much to report back to his comrades this day; the Zulus were oddly silent in that moment, which only brought them moderate comfort. At least they didn’t have to fight in this oppressive heat for one day._

_He was tired of seeing brambles and half-cooked foliage dotted across the landscape before him; what he wouldn’t give to see the lush greens of the north again, or the comforting brush of a cool summer shade on his skin. The air around him was as dry as the fields he stood in, making his motions stiff and uncomfortable. Many of his men had been stricken already with this God-awful weather, and he prayed that he wouldn’t fall victim to this drought himself. At least the horses were kept in relative comfort; upon checking on Liberty, Steve discovered that she seemed almost content, along with the other warhorses they had brought from England._

_He tugged on the collar of his uniform, cursing the crimson stained wool as it hugged his overheated body in the oppressive sunlight; he could feel the sticky residue of sweat on his torso, clinging to his uniform and causing an uncomfortable sensation of the damp, scratchy wool rubbing his skin almost raw through his shirt. With nothing more to do, Steve turned away from his post and returned to one of the small tents scattered across their base to fetch a cup of water; he hoped it would be enough to bring his comfort levels up at least a bit, though he doubted his reprieve would last long. The war had been going on for five months now, since the horrendous attack at Isdaniwana had rendered a massive casualty count on the British Forces. Since then, forces had been sent to South Africa in droves, with hopes to bring this bloody war to an end before any more British men were lost to the Zulus. Of course, Steve had been one of the first to be sent to the war, and he had accepted it readily, in hopes to bring peace back to his men again; he just hadn’t expected it to be this hellish._

_Steve stepped into the tent and instantly relaxed as the offered shade brought him the much needed comfort he sought after surveying the landscape for far too long. A weak smile crossed his lips as he plucked his helmet from his head, and he approached a water bucket to ladle himself out a generous portion. As he brought the cup to his lips, he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder; he looked up in surprise and half-cocked anticipation to fight back. His shock quickly melted away to relief at the sight of his companion, Dugan, grinning back at him. “Dugan! It’s good to see a friendly face after a long day.”_

_Dugan snorted, uttering a deep belly laugh as he too grabbed a tin cup and scooped out a portion of water for himself. “Indeed! The fight wages on, but we seem to finally be making an impression on these tribes. Perhaps we will get to see the end of the war before your birthday comes, eh?”_

_Steve nodded and leaned his hip back against the table as he listened to him. “Perhaps. I never would have thought I would be the one to say it, but I do miss England these days.”_

_“That is an odd thing for you to say, you old American dog you!”_

_The two of them fell silent as they relished the cool water for a few precious moments; comfortable moments like these were few and far between, and they both wished to enjoy the reprieve for as long as they possibly could. Steve fished himself a second portion of water before wiping his hand on his lips to dry the water from them. “An American by heart, yes, not by residence. Still, I don’t wish to see these men fall to their deaths while on my watch. Have you heard word from the top as to our next move? I hope it is wiser than the idiocy of Frere.”_

_“Nothing yet,” Dugan replied; he took a seat to rest himself for a moment, uttering a tired groan as he did. “we hope to have our next orders soon, though. I certainly hope that is the case! I have a Pet waiting for me to come back home in one piece!”_

_Steve nodded, though his earlier mirth had bled away at the topic of Pets. He had promised himself that when this war ended, he would do right by his status and find his One before the days grew late. He watched Dugan for a moment, and took note of the man’s longing expression as he thought of his precious girl back in England; a weak jealousy bubbled in the pit of his stomach at that amorous look and he forced himself to look away. He wished he had a Pet he could look forward to seeing again, as the other men in his squadron all had; talk of his celibacy was beginning to become a popular topic amidst the soldiers, and he feared that he wouldn’t take the disappointment much longer. It was a sad case that a man of his age hadn’t found his One yet, and many took pity on the blond for his broken heart._

_“Tell me, Dugan,” Steve muttered; he sat across from his companion and rest his elbows on his knees in exhaustion. “Is it really worth it? Having a Consort to pine after? Having a Pet to dream of when the war ends, and arms to return to, to ease the ache left behind after seeing such blood and pain in many long months? I have told myself day in and day out that the pleasure of One’s love is a soothing balm, but I have never had the luxury of feeling such for myself.”_

_Dugan went silent as he watched the younger man before him. His smile fell into a wistful glance and he stared at the cup in his hands with a reverent sigh. “It’s worth every drop of sweat, blood and tear I shed on a daily basis, Rogers. Had I no Pet to return to, I would gladly throw myself onto the front lines to bring this war to an end, regardless of my fate. But with that girl waiting for me at home, I strive for nothing else but to see another day, just so I can take that trip back home and see her smiling face once again.”_

_Steve smiled; he listened carefully, and thumbed a loose strand of wool on the hem of his coat carefully. How he wished he had a Pet waiting for him at home; at least Peggy had her own consort to keep her company while she waited for his return… but the desire to have a young one waiting eagerly for their Master to come home and greet them with a smile, that alone put a fire in his heart to strengthen his search once he set foot on British soil again. “It sounds beautiful, Dugan… I can’t allow myself to go another day back home without one at my side. I wish I had that dream to fall asleep to every night in the dirt here. It’s tiring, waking in the morning and wondering if this is the day I die, having not given my heart to my One.”_

_“Aye!” Dugan said as he slapped his knee. “You’ve got it right, there. And by God, you will have one, I promise you that! Your One will be the most beautiful boy the world has ever laid eyes on, you mark my words!” Dugan exclaimed with gusto; he barked a laugh at the surprised look he got from Steve at his statement, and he leaned closer to him. “What is it? Why do you look at me like that?”_

_Steve scoffed, and tossed a pebble that had found its way into the tent, towards his companion. “How do you know my Pet will be male, Dugan? Perhaps my Pet will be more gorgeous and beautiful than that blonde darling you hold so dear to your heart!” Steve retorted, grinning jovially at him in return._

_“Bah! It’s the aura you’ve got, Steve!” Dugan replied, waving his hand at him dismissively. “A young lass for you would be far too traditional for you; now a boy, that’s another thing entirely.” Dugan grinned at him and tossed the pebble back at his companion. “Steve, I know you. You’ve got the itch for the exotic in you, and make no mistake, a male lover would suit your foolish blond head a might better than a female! Besides, dear Margaret would already have borne you a child if you had the desires of a girl in your possession!”_

_Steve flushed at his words, staring down at the floor of their tent before he moved to speak; perhaps Dugan was right. He did, after all, catch himself admiring the male Consorts of others far more readily than the female ones; he found the girls attractive, but the boys… he just couldn’t shake how his heart would flutter at the sight of one, and how he pined to have that boy on his arm instead. However, just as he did, Dugan held his hand up to him._

_“There’s no need to blush, Rogers. Falsworth’s got himself a boy he loves beyond imagination. I honestly would be damn surprised if you found yourself a woman as your Pet,” With that, Dugan stood from his spot and stretched his back with an audible pop of his bones. It seemed his break had come to an end finally. But just as he prepared to leave the tent, he turned and smiled down at Steve. “I’m counting on you to find a boy that shames the rest of us to the end of our days, Rogers. You deserve it.”_

_Steve relaxed and nodded to him in return, as Dugan vacated the tent finally; he felt comforted by his friend’s words, and a hopeful smile danced across his lips. He glanced down at the cup in his hands and regarded his reflection in the water just under his nose. He looked tired, and far older than his 28 years; his beard had filled in dramatically, and the bags beneath his eyes only heightened his fatigue further. But he felt content, knowing that his time would come. He’d have a Pet of his own, soon. When this bloody war was over, he would find his Pet and he would care for him and love him passionately until the day he died. His One would deserve nothing less._

* * *

Steve jarred awake with a gasp; he stared up at the ceiling above him in confusion as he fought to bring his heart rate down again. He hadn’t dreamed of the war in months since his return; odd that his mind would dredge up the one memory he had taken with him from that day on, further spurring his intentions of finding his Pet as quickly as possible. It wasn’t long after that talk in the tent, the war had come to an end at long last. On Steve’s 29th birthday, the British claimed victory over the Zulus and they had all been sent home to their loved ones, and Steve to his newfound urge to complete his search as soon as possible. It had been a little over a year since his conversation with Dugan, and while he had grown frustrated with the failures he had endured in his search, his persistence had finally paid off at the last possible moment. So why should he dream of that moment, now of all days? He had succeeded, had he not?

Breathing slowly, Steve felt his pulse slow from the anxious gallop he had woken up with, and he relaxed into the bedding beneath him. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering exactly what time it was that his body had chosen to rouse him from such a seemingly uneventful dream. When he glanced at the clock across the room, he frowned. He had only been asleep for an hour since their play in the bathroom; it explained why the sky was still dark and dreary on the horizon, rather than the usual, golden rays that roused him in the mornings. Why he had woken so suddenly, Steve couldn’t explain.

He felt the bed shift next to him and he turned his head. To his left, Buchanan lay curled up at his side, his bare back still exposed to him as he slept; the sheets had long since slipped from his waist and bunched down just below the Consort’s ass to expose the boy’s nudity to him without hesitation. Steve smiled a little as he watched the brunet shiver slightly in the faint chill of the early morning air. A flutter of affection raced through his heart as he watched the naked teen sleeping so deeply, uttering tiny noises of contentment in his slumber. After a moment’s admiration, Steve decided he should comfort the boy and recover him to ward off the odd chill in the air; the last thing he wanted was Buchanan catching a cold. But just as he leaned over, ready to pull the sheets back up over his waist and shield him from the air around them, his eyes darted down to the boy’s hips and he froze in dismay.

Even in the low light of the early morning hours, Steve could see that the teen’s skin was still tacky and flecked with dried come and sweat; his skin looked slightly irritated from the filth and the pungent odor of their sex still permeated off of his skin. The unmistakable sight of bruises on his shoulder blades and hips from the ferocity of their lovemaking made Steve uneasy and he sat up to examine the boy further. But when he did, what he saw made Steve pause and his breath catch worriedly in his throat.

The area of flesh just above the teen’s tailbone was bright red and clearly irritated, and that irritation could easily been seen, extending down between the cleft of his ass. With every shift the boy made in his sleep, Steve could see Buchanan visibly tense up, even in his slumber, and a soft whimper lofted into the quiet air around them; Buchanan was actually in pain, God help him.

Steve felt his heart beat wildly in his chest at the obvious discomfort his Pet was in; guilt filled his chest until he felt as if he could choke on it, and his cheeks flushed in shame at his thoughtlessness. How could he have been so _stupid,_ leaving Buchanan like this, while he slept comfortably next to him?! His guilt continued to well in his chest until he felt the corners of his eyes pricking with tears, and he immediately sat up. Not a moment more, would Buchanan feel this discomfort, if Steve could help it.

Swinging his legs from the side of the bed, Steve stood and grabbed his robe from the stand next to the four-poster bed; he wrapped himself in the silken cloth, and immediately walked into the bathroom to grab a basin to fill with water. He cursed himself mentally for his lack of insight, and leaving his poor boy in such a state; what a horrible Master he must make. Immediately, Steve filled the basin with water and grabbed a washcloth from the rack to cleanse his skin. But just as he reached for the soaps that he normally used, he paused. This soap was much too rough on skin as irritated as Buchanan’s was; the last thing he wanted to do was cause the teen more harm in his attempts to right the wrong he had done to him needlessly.

Steve began to dig anxiously through the supplies beneath the sink cupboard, looking for anything he could use to ease the boy’s aches and blemished skin; he found nothing that he thought could possibly work and his anxiety climbed higher up his spine until he was dizzy with it and his heart fluttered unhappily in his chest, making his limbs tingle with upset. He cursed under his breath as he stood again; he stared at his reflection in the mirror in an attempt to gather his thoughts, and a furrow grew between his brows in consternation.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Steve was ashamed to know that he’d jumped head first into the role of Master without so much as thinking what the responsibility truly entailed, and now Buchanan had suffered the consequence of that. Instantly, the worry of infection rooted itself in Steve’s mind, and he felt his heart turn to ice in his chest. If Buchanan fell ill because of what he’d done, he’d never forgive himself.

Then, a thought occurred to him. Who else had been nothing but supportive of his efforts in the past few days? Who else had urged him to be patient and give his precious Star time to acclimate into their home? Peggy, of course! Why hadn’t he thought of her first?

Shaking his head in irritation at himself, Steve slipped from the bathroom and grabbed his trousers from the floor where he had tossed them just a few hours prior. He slipped them on and crept from the room, avoiding the floorboards he knew creaked loudest; once he’d safely slipped from the bedroom without rousing his Pet, Steve hurried down the hall to Peggy’s rooms, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t be cross with him for waking her. He knocked briskly on the door of her rooms, and wrapped his robe tighter around his waist; thank God, Darcy hadn’t doused the lamps that night. At least he could see well enough to talk with Peggy in the hall and not make a clatter by trying to light a simple lamp to discuss by.

Moments passed before any sounds came from the bedroom; when the door creaked open, Steve looked down in relief to see Peggy standing before him. She looked exhausted, as if he had just woken her from the deepest of dreams, and her own silk robe was tossed over her nightgown in an erratic effort to cover her modesty. “Steve?” Peggy murmured in confusion. She yawned into the curl of her first before rubbing her knuckle beneath her left eye to clear the sleep from her vision. “Steve, what is it? What’s wrong? Have you any clue what time is it?”

Steve flushed, looking down at the floor between them before he could meet her gaze. He felt ashamed; 30 years old and he had to turn to his wife for help with _his_ Pet. What embarrassment. “I am sorry I woke you up at this hour, but I need your help. It’s…” he paused, rubbing his elbow in a shamed gesture before he glanced up at her. “I think I hurt Buchanan, and I don’t know what to do!”

Peggy stared at him for a long moment before her eyes lit with worry. She slipped from the room and shut the door behind herself before straightening her robe; Peggy faced him, her hands clutching the fold of her robe in tight, trembling fingers and her expression held no hesitancy. “What happened? Tell me exactly what happened.”

Clearly her history in this field had come across such a situation as this in her past; Steve relaxed marginally and turned away from her. He paced the hall a moment as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair in a tired gesture. He knew he couldn’t be ashamed to tell her what had happened; anything withheld could seriously hurt the boy if he failed to mention it to someone whom had gained so much experience in her life. “After you and Angela turned in for the night, Buchanan and I went to our rooms. He tried to seduce me, and I discovered that his intentions had been to dominate me. So I took matters into my own hands. We played...“ Steve hesitated and bit his lip. “We played very rough. I don’t know for how long. All I know is after we had finished, I put him to bed and fell asleep next to him. I woke up just now and realized that he was still filthy, and he has developing rashes and bruises on his body. I feel awful, Peggy! What should I do?” Steve turned to her, his eyes pleading and his features masked in a shamed expression.

Peggy listened, her arms crossed over her chest; her expression remained an understanding neutral as she took in his words with sharp attention; when Steve finished, she spoke up. “When you two played, did you use lubrication?”

Steve frowned and shook his head. “No... just-” he paused and winced. “no we didn’t…” Of course! What the hell had he been thinking, forgetting such a crucial detail! Buchanan wasn’t a woman. Why on Earth would he assume he didn’t need to supply him with the slick needed to make him as comfortable as possible?!

Peggy sighed and rubbed her fingers over her eyes in an exhausted, frustrated gesture. “No lubrication… of all the foolish things, Steve.” Peggy looked up at him and offered a determined nod. “Hold on… stay right there.”

Steve nodded silently; he watched Peggy disappear into the room behind her and the door shut with a gentle click, leaving him standing in the hallway confused and concerned. But he did not move, as she had asked him to; whatever she had in her head, Peggy was clearly more versed in what to do with a Pet, and he trusted her advice beyond anyone else’s. A few minutes later, just before Steve began to worry that she had decided to leave him on his own for this mistake, he heard the handle of the door click before it swung open again.

This time, Peggy emerged, carrying a small cinch-bag in her hands. Without a word, she handed the bag to her fretful husband, and offered up a smile. “In this bag are some essential items you, as a Master, must have at all times. I don’t know why I didn’t think to inform you of this sooner, but now I wish I had.”

Steve listened to her before undoing the tie at the top of the bag. He glanced inside and instantly his heart warmed at the sight of the bottles and flannel swabs he saw inside. Bless this woman’s insight! “Peggy… from your own personal store, too?” he asked, looking up at her gratefully.

Peggy smiled and patted him on the elbow. “Inside the bag are bottles of lavender and tea-tree oil. Rub the lavender into his wrists and bruises to bring the swelling and discoloration down; if it is not too deep, they should be mostly faded in a few hours. The tea tree oil, use on his irritation. He may require a few additional applications to bring the rash down, but he will feel much better. Please use it sparingly with each application, as it is rather expensive.” Peggy reached into the bag and pulled out a small bar of soap. “Castile soap. This is gentle enough for his skin at the moment. Wash the filth from his skin using this and the flannel. Be gentle, but make sure you get all of it off of his skin. You don’t want him chafing at all. And finally,” Peggy paused, withdrawing a larger, clear bottle filled with a viscous fluid. “Lubrication. Please, do not forget to use this in the future. He’s young and spry, but you don’t want to tear him apart; the risk of infection is terribly high if you do not properly slick yourselves before you play.”

Steve took the bottle from her and examined it with a relieved sigh; no way in hell would he dare to forget to use such an important tool again, for his beloved’s sake. He looked down at his wife and nodded, before he pulled her into a gentle, one armed hug. “Thank you, Peggy… thank you so much. I am forever grateful to you, my wife.”

Peggy tisked him before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “As your wife, I am perpetually obligated to assist you in your follies when they arise.” Peggy teased him, and pulled back to stifle a yawn. “Now go, tend to your Pet and care for him. Always care for him after you play, else you may run into a problem that can’t be fixed with simple treatments. You don’t want him to stop trusting you, now do you?”

Steve shook his head immediately, offering her an accepting nod. “What would I do without you, Peggy?”

Peggy just laughed and leaned her hip against the frame of the door. “I’m not entirely sure you could fasten your vest without my help, husband. Now go! I have my own Pet to keep warm this night. Off with you now!”

Steve bowed his head to her and with his supplies in tow, he sprinted back to his rooms. After he had locked himself inside, Steve turned to the bed, only to find that Buchanan had turned over in his sleep and was currently curled around Steve’s pillow, in the absence of his body heat keeping him warm. Steve felt his heart crack in his chest, and a wave of emotion washed over him. The poor thing…

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Steve slipped into the bathroom and retrieved his basin of water he had previously filled. Carefully holding it in his free hand, Steve walked back into the bedroom and set his supplies down on the table next to the bed. Then, he turned to the bedside lamp and lit the wick with a small match; the crackle of the match tip snapped to life as he struck it, and carefully lit the half-used wick of his bedside lamp carefully. He watched as the lamp flared to life, and he lowered the flame gently, until the side of his bed was cast in a low, warm glow.

“Master..?” Buchanan’s voice, sleepy and muffled, came from the bed; Steve looked down to see Buchanan had roused, yawning widely as he rubbed his knuckles against his eye in a tired gesture. “Master… you are awake? I… did not wake you, no?”

Steve felt a pang of affection flutter in the pit of his stomach at the sweet look his Pet gave him; he smiled down at Buchanan and shook his head. “No, Buchanan, you did not. I’m sorry to wake you, but we must get you cleaned. I promise you can go back to sleep afterwards.”

Buchanan blinked fuzzily, and shook his head; he almost looked confused at the idea that Steve would actually be concerned enough to clean him up, and he bit his lip. “No… it is no required. I do not need…”

“Buchanan.” Steve stopped him, giving his Pet a look that begged him not to argue. “Please sit up. I need to clean you.”

Buchanan stared at him for a long moment before he nodded at long last. The teen sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the pressure on his ass as he scooted to the edge of the bed, but did not complain further. He sat on the edge of the bed, still naked, and carefully held his arms out to Steve.

Steve chuckled; the poor boy looked like he would fall asleep sitting up. His head had lolled forward, his eyes had drifted shut again, and he swayed slightly in sleepy posture. Smiling to himself, Steve dropped down to his knee and began to lather the bar of soap he’d been given in the tepid water, getting a good foam on a strip of cloth in his hand. With his cloth ready, he looked up at his Pet and carefully began to wipe away the evidence of filth from his skin.

In no time, he managed to get Buchanan’s torso and arms completely cleansed of the residue of sweat and release he had gotten on him, until his skin was pink and fresh once again. When he’d finished, he turned his attention to Buchanan’s legs and groin, repeating the process until he’d gotten every ounce of mess from his front. “Buchanan, lay down on your stomach please…”

“But… the bed, it will wet…” Buchanan replied, looking down at him through half lidded eyes.

Steve just shook his head. “It will be fine. Just lay down.”

He really had no reason to argue, it seemed; doing as he was told, Buchanan stretched out gratefully on the bed, back exposed to his Master, and he rested his cheek on Steve’s warm pillow. With his back exposed to him, Steve carefully began to wash the last of his marks from his skin, rinsing sweat from the planes of his back, and being gentle as he cleaned between the cleft of his ass. When he felt Buchanan jump and hiss at the touch, he bit his lip in pity and frowned down at him. “I’m so sorry, Buchanan… I will never forget this again, I swear to you I won’t...” His voice cracked in guilt, and Steve lowered his gaze shamefully to the teen’s smooth back.

Buchanan shook his head, and looked up at him over his shoulder; despite the sleep still clouding his vision, he had a sharp enough gaze that burrowed into Steve’s soul as he spoke. “It is well… I do not mind.” Buchanan kept his eyes on Steve, trying to convey to him that he did not feel anger towards him for this terrible mistake. Steve felt a sort of pride fill him; his Pet was so strong and beautiful. He really had been blessed with this boy in his life.

Steve fell silent, and simply resumed his work of cleansing the boy from his mess. When he had finished, Steve shrugged out of his robe and trousers, letting them fall to the floor in a silent swish. He then plucked up the vial of tea tree oil from the bag, and carefully dabbed a small amount on the tips of his fingers. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and with a gentle hand began to rub soothing circles into the irritated skin at the base of Buchanan’s spine. When he’d sufficiently slicked up the rashed skin there, he dabbed more onto his fingers and with utmost care, spread the irritated cheeks of his Pet’s ass and massaged the oil into the reddened skin there; his fingers grazed over the swollen pucker of his asshole, and he took his time to massage it back into a relaxed state.

Steve heard Buchanan utter a light gasp, and he looked down at him, with worry on his features. For the briefest of moments, he feared that he was hurting his Pet. But no… the look that crossed his Consort’s face was not pain nor discomfort; it was delight, bordering on arousal. Steve relaxed and he smiled down at him; gradually, he slowed the circling of his fingers, allowing his middle finger to prod gently at his hole as he rubbed the soothing oil into the stretched skin. He didn’t penetrate him, but he did slow his hand to allow his fingers to stroke the boy’s sensitive skin in light, affectionate touches. “Does this feel good?”

“Mmm… yes... much,” Buchanan sighed; as Steve massaged his abused hole, Buchanan shifted, and stretched his upper torso out to drape across Steve’s lap. He wrapped his arms around his Master’s waist and nuzzled up to his firm belly, uttering happy little moans as he rocked his hips back against those teasing fingers.

Steve felt a wild flutter of happiness fill his veins as he smiled down at his Pet. Buchanan looked so beautiful, cuddled up to him and soaking up his affections without hesitation; he continued to massage his hole, getting the soothing oil exactly where he needed it, before he pulled his fingers away. Buchanan uttered a little whimper of disappointment, and Steve chuckled. “Patience, little Star.”

Steve cleaned his fingers off on a spare piece of cloth, and grabbed the lavender oil. He uncorked it with a careful hand, and instantly the warm, soothing smell filled the room around them. He took a moment to relish the scent before he dabbed the oil onto his fingers once again. As he did before, Steve massaged gentle circles into the bruises on Buchanan’s back. In the better lighting, he could see that they were much smaller than he had initially thought, and relief filled him. Perhaps they _would_ be gone by morning.

His Consort uttered another happy moan, and Steve could feel the boy going boneless in his lap; his arms went slack around his waist and he buried his face in the crook of Steve’s hip. “You are... so good at this, Master… I feel as I could fall to sleep soon...” Buchanan muttered blearily. He nuzzled further into Steve’s side, and a slight shiver ran up his back from the cool touch of air on his bare skin.

Steve just shushed him and Buchanan went silent once again; once he’d finished massaging the oil into his back, Steve scooted further down the bed until he too was lying on his back. He tugged Buchanan slightly, turning him to curl into his side instead of laying on his stomach, and then carefully draped the blankets over them both again. Instantly, Buchanan tucked himself into Steve’s side, throwing his leg over his Master’s thighs and resting his head on his chest to settle in for sleep again.

Steve chuckled and tucked his finger beneath the teen’s chin to lift his head. “Just one more thing, Buck...” Steve murmured, gazing into the concubine’s eyes. “That’s it… you’re so good, my little Pet. Just one more thing for me, and I promise you can sleep.”

Buchanan simply looked back at him before nodding in agreement. With his acknowledgement, Steve plucked Buchanan’s right hand from beneath the blankets, and dabbed more lavender oil onto the darkened skin of his wrist and forearm. With long firm strokes, Steve massaged the oil into his skin, watching with delight as Buchanan nuzzled into the touches, practically purring in delight at the touches. “My little Star… so beautiful, and good, letting me do this. I can’t let this beautiful skin go untouched ever again… it needs to be cared for, soothed and caressed…” Steve smiled and traced his lips along the line of Buchanan’s thumb bone. “My delicate little Pet with sapphire eyes… you are an angel, little Star; an angel… the finest artists in the world could never capture your beauty, and give it justice...”

Buchanan sighed, smiling as he watched his Master caress him like the finest jewel in the land. Steve could see the light burning just beneath Buchanan’s skin; with each sentiment he poured on him, each vow he whispered into the night, he watched his Pet bloom further into a bright and fair flower of perfection. Even with his faint bruises, Buchanan was a prize no one could ever claim, and he belonged to him. It was the finest blessing from Heaven Steve could ever receive and he would forever cherish this boy’s presence, as long as he drew breath.

Once he’d finished massaging the oil into both of his Pet’s arms, Steve put the bottle down on the side table, and tucked his Pet into the warm blankets draped over them both. “There… go to sleep, Bucky… I will watch over you tonight.”

Buchanan smirked, peeking one eye open to look up at him. “Bucky? Is new name for me?” he asked, sounding thoroughly amused, despite the relaxing massage that made him muzzy with elation.

Steve chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from Buchanan’s forehead. “Yes? Is that not suitable?”

Buchanan shook his head, and nuzzled up to Steve’s bearded jaw. “No... I like it. I will be called Bucky...” He hesitated, before pressing a gentle kiss to the elevated raise of Steve’s collarbone. “Thank you, Master…”

Steve paused, watching his Pet; he felt a residual guilt in his chest at the thanks he received, even after forgetting to tend to his Pet after their play. “I am so sorry, that I did not do this sooner, Bucky… I swear to you, on my soul, I will never forget to care for you again. My heart breaks to think that I could have been so stupid to forget such an important task…”

Buchanan looked up at him; his eyes were hooded with sleep, but determination burned in the depths of his grey-blue orbs all the same. “There is no need to forgive… I will be well. You take such good care of me…” He yawned again, and closed his eyes. Within moments, he had drifted right to sleep, his head pillowed on Steve’s chest and his left arm draped over the older man’s stomach as he curled into his strong side.

Steve stared down at his Pet, watching him as he slipped further into sleep. When he was sure that Buchanan was fully asleep, Steve smiled down at him and pressed a tender kiss to the boy’s temple. “My love...” he murmured and curled protectively around his Pet, shielding him from the world as he slept soundly.

Steve barely slept the rest of that night. He dozed in and out of wakefulness despite his promise to watch over him, periodically checking the boy in his arms as his Pet slumbered, deep in happy dreams. The hours ticked by, and slowly the horizon brightened with a tired grey, lighting the edges of the nearby town’s outline. Birds came to life outside the house, chirping merrily in the early morning hours as the grey drear of the daybreak lightened into a friendly pink across the sky. As the sun slowly rose in the distance, Steve blinked his eyes open; he could hear the clatter of the kitchen far below them, as dishes were pulled from cupboards, and the kitchen’s water pump was utilized to begin the morning meal. He smiled to himself and glanced down at his Pet, who still slept without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the world coming to life around him.

As he watched him, a thought crossed the Captain’s mind, and he paused; he had made such an incredible break-through with the boy the night before… but perhaps Buchanan was not quite ready to share his attention with the house just yet. Peggy had been right; perhaps Buchanan just needed time to get used to the new home, and too much attention on him may have made him uncomfortable. With that thought in mind, Steve decided that he would wean the boy into the home a little differently, starting with the morning meal. Perhaps Buchanan would actually eat his food if he didn’t feel the pressure of others watching him. The last thing Steve wanted, after his concern had been so piqued the night before, was to pressure Buchanan too far and then have his Pet fall sick because he refused to dine at all. Baby steps, it seemed, would be the key to their relationship.

Satisfied with his decision, the blond brushed his fingers along Buchanan’s spine, feeling the ridges through his skin with an unsatisfied frowned; he couldn’t allow this boy to continue to waste away like this. He couldn’t bear that thought. Carefully, as Steve examined his Consort’s thinness, he noted with relief that most of his bruises had at least faded away to nothing; the only one that remained was a light pink mark around his left wrist, where he had gripped his too-bony wrist a touch too firmly. Yes, he thought to himself with satisfaction; he felt that feeding him in private would definitely put the weight he needed, back onto his poor figure.

Without rousing him, Steve kissed the bruise and blessed it with his love before he slipped himself free from Buchanan’s grip. The teen simply settled into the blankets around him, sleeping on as Steve extracted himself from the bedding. Steve chuckled quietly and watched his Pet for a moment before he ran his fingers through the wild tuft of hair on Buchanan’s scalp. He soothed him back into deeper sleep with those gentle brushes, before turning and dressing once again. Steve pulled on a simple pair of cotton pants and a thin undershirt, before grabbing his robe once again and wrapping it around his shoulders. He could properly wash and dress after breakfast.

Steve left his rooms behind, slipping down the hallway; as he passed Peggy’s rooms, he heard rustling from inside, proving that his wife had just risen herself. He smiled gratefully to her rooms for a moment before disappearing down the flight of stairs that would take him straight to the kitchen of the house.

Entering the room, Steve’s eyes landed on Darcy; the young woman was working diligently over the stove to cook their meal, and he chuckled. “Up and about early this day, I see.” Steve said, startling Darcy from her thoughts.

Darcy spun on her heel, her eyes wide in shock before she laughed. “Oh my Goodness, sir, you can sure scare the bloody hell out of a woman.” Darcy giggled, clapping her hand over her mouth as she watched her employer enter the room. “Light on yer feet and a giant in the eyes of men. How do y’do it?”

Steve shrugged a shoulder, walking over to the stove to examine the food. It was a classic meal Darcy often prepared, though the house could argue she prepared the best fry-up in the county. He smiled down at her and nodded. “It’s a wonder I stay as svelte as I do, Darcy. Your meals could put the meat on any man’s bones.”

Darcy giggled again, and punched her employer in the shoulder good-naturedly. “Oh don’t be goin’ givin’ compliments so early, Steve. I’ll have a head that won’t fit through the door before the meal’s even ready!”

Steve laughed and plucked up a piece of tomato she had just fried, taking a bite of the crispy, red slice before stepping back. “It is simply an observation, and one I hope can be utilized this very morning. I came down to tell you that Buchanan and I will be eating in our rooms this morning, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Darcy beamed up at him and nodded. “Of course I can have a tray up to you both just as soon as it’s all ready! Any good reason why you feel like dinin’ in yer rooms today?” she asked, turning to slice up a slab of bacon for the fry-up.

Steve hummed quietly and leaned his hip against the counter next to her to watch. “I just feel that perhaps Buchanan may feel a little pressured around company to eat at this time. Perhaps some privacy might help him get acclimated to the house, instead of feeling that perhaps others are observing him far too close for his liking. Nothing particularly serious, actually.”

Darcy nodded in return, looking up at her employer with a grin. “That does make a fair amount of sense to me, sir. I always thought you were brighter than y’let on, Captain!”

Steve scoffed at her and rolled his eyes. “The women in my life and their mockery, I swear.”

Darcy laughed and shoved him out of the kitchen. “Out! I need to concentrate. I’ll have a tray up there in no time! Just have the boy decent; I don’t plan on sneakin’ a peek of my employer’s Pet by accident. It’s not decent, you know!”

Steve waved his hand at her with a chuckle and darted from the room. “Alright, alright! I’ll get out of your way then!” He left the kitchen to the sound of Darcy’s laughter, and made his way back up to the second floor of their home. As he passed by Peggy’s room, he saw the door had been opened; Angela sat up in bed, wearing her pajamas and yawning tiredly as her Mistress brushed the sleep tangles from her hair. He lingered for just a moment, watching fondly as his wife and her Pet bonded in the early morning hours. Just a few days prior and he may have felt a pang of jealousy at their obvious love for each other. Now, he simply felt content, watching the two of them and knowing that he had his own Consort waiting to rouse him with a kiss and a fond greeting.

He lingered for a moment too long; when Peggy caught sight of him standing in the doorway, she flashed him a wink and a nod. Clearly from the look of him, her advice had worked wonders and the proud smile she wore was brighter than the sun rising in the East.

Steve winked back at her and left them to their privacy. He re-entered his rooms with a gentle click of the door and shut them both inside once again. As he turned, his eyes caught sight of Buchanan sprawled across his bed, snoring silently into the pillow beneath his head. Steve laughed and crossed the room; he dropped down onto the bed, and stretched out next to the boy to brush his fingers along his jaw and temple, gently rousing him from his sleep with as little disturbance as possible. “Bucky… darling, wake up. The sun is out, my love. Wake up.”

At his crooning tone, Buchanan stirred quietly, blinking one eye open to stare tiredly up at him. “Mmm… morning, so soon?” Buchanan yawned, shifting slightly in the bed. He sat up slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he stared at the far window with vague irritation at the sunlight that disturbed his rest.

Steve chuckled; how endearing the boy looked, so sleepy and disheveled. His hair, having been pressed into the pillow in odd ways, stood up from his scalp in funny spikes, and the warmth of the bedding left the boy’s face in a flush of light pink. Steve reached out and caressed the teen’s cheek, trailing his fingers down to his throat in a whisper soft brush against the still warm silk of his black collar. “Yes. Morning, already. It’s time to get up and get dressed. We’ll get you properly cleaned after we’ve eaten.”

Buchanan shivered slightly at the touch, looking over at his Master with light filtering back into his tired eyes. He smiled, leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s exposed wrist just below the hem of his robe sleeve. “Yes Master...“ he intoned, looking up at him through the veil of his lashes. He pressed a second kiss to Steve’s wrist, lingering for just a moment before he pulled away and sat up properly. Clearly the soothing oils had worked; he didn’t flinch once as he got to his feet this time.

Satisfied that his aftercare had worked, Steve bent and retrieved the boy’s silk pants and handed them to his Pet. He watched as the teen slipped into them carefully, and fastened the tie around his waist that would hold them to his thin hips. However, when he saw Buchanan move to cross the room and wait for his Master at the door as he was trained to do, Steve shook his head. “Not this time, Bucky. We will eat in here today.”

Buchanan hesitated and looked back at his Master in confusion. Clearly the notion of eating in one’s bedroom was completely foreign to the Consort; still, the teen nodded in understanding and stepped away from the door and back to Steve’s side, clearly looking bothered that he had no idea his Master had different intentions that particular day. “Of… of course, Master. I am sorry I did not know...”

“Bucky. It’s alright,” Steve reassured the flustered boy; he placed his hands on his shoulders and smiled down at him. “I decided that this morning. There’s no need for you to be upset.” Steve leaned down and cupped the Consort’s chin in his palm; tilting his head up, Steve pulled the boy into a soft kiss, his lips caressing his Pet’s in a gentle, prodding touch. Buchanan immediately leaned into the kiss; he pressed further on to entice the blond to act further and his hands framed the older man’s hips in an eager grip.

Steve chuckled, feeling the phantom tickle of the Consort’s tongue trying to gain entry; he pulled back and nipped Buchanan’s lower lip gently. “Not right now. Please, sit. The food should be here shortly.”

Buchanan licked his lower lip, his eyes casting down to the floor in a nervous gesture before he nodded. He didn’t speak as he slipped past his Master and sat at the small tea table in the corner of the room; he sat with his hands resting in his lap, his shoulders rigid as he stared at the table in front of him with obvious discomfort on his features.

Steve’s smile fell as he saw the teen’s tense posture at the table; perhaps public meals weren’t the issue, after all. Perhaps that was why he had tried to entice Steve into another bout of play; it must have been a hope for distraction. But before he could fathom the thought further, a knock came from the door to his right, and he looked away from his Pet.

“Meal’s here! I do hope th’both of you are decent now!”

Steve chuckled at Darcy’s voice, and he crossed the room to open the door. “Yes, Darcy, we’re both decent,” he said as he opened the door. On the other side, the small woman stood holding a massive tray piled high with food and a tea pot, and he beamed at her. “Thank you so much for bringing this up. That will be all.”

Darcy beamed up at him and handed Steve the tray before bowing and departing from the room just as quickly as she had arrived. With his tray in hand, Steve kicked the door shut behind him and carried it to the small table. He glanced up at his Pet, hoping for some sort of positive reaction to their newfound privacy; he found none on his features.

Steve sighed heavily and set the tray down on the table before taking his seat next to the teen. He grabbed one of the empty plates from the tray and set it before the boy, before grabbing the covered dish that held the food within it to keep it warm; offering him a hopeful smile, Steve dished himself up a decent portion of the food and sausages, arranging them on his own plate before setting the dish in front of Buchanan to serve himself. Even a small portion would do. “Eat, Bucky. Darcy is the best cook in these parts; she’s put quite a bit of effort into her meals over the years. At least try the food.”

Buchanan stared at the empty plate in front of him; his hands didn’t move once from his lap. Instead, his shoulders trembled slightly as he stared at the table. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at his Master; instead a deep blush crossed his cheeks as he stared directly in front of himself. With nowhere to escape to this time, Buchanan was stuck at the table, forced to stare at the food set in front of him as if it would come alive and bite him. When Steve urged him a second time to take the food, a bit more forcefully this time, Buchanan stunned the blond with a swift shake of his head, outright refusing to listen to him.

But just as he shook his head, his stomach protested against the gaping emptiness it felt; a loud rumble of hunger gurgled from the pit of his stomach, making Buchanan flush dark red in embarrassment and duck his head in shame. His shoulders trembled harder still, and he closed his eyes, unable to look at the food set out in front of him like a taunt.

Steve stared at his Pet, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushing in indignation and outright frustration. Was this another game? Actually _refusing_ to obey him, as blatant as it was in that moment? A surge of anger filled his chest as he stared at his disobedient Pet; he’d done so well, listening to him, speaking to him, and breaking the tension of his lack of affection. But this? Refusing to heed his command? That wouldn’t pass in this house at all.

Rising from his seat, Steve marched over to Buchanan’s side and gripped him by the back of the neck; it wasn’t a hard grip, but it definitely caught the boy’s attention, as he sat up straighter in his seat, flushing darker red and whimpering quietly. Glaring down at him, Steve hefted the teen to his feet and steered him from the table back to the bed. “Of all the things, Buchanan... of all the things! Disrespect and disobeying me will not be tolerated in this house!” Steve growled; turning his Pet, he nudged him backwards, until the boy sat down heavily on the bed and he bounced just slightly on the mattress. Standing in front of him, Steve stared down at him with fury in his blue eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the shamed Consort. “ _Blatant_ disregard for your servant’s efforts won’t be had either! Have you a clue how long it takes to prepare a meal like this? And there are people out in the world that wouldn't receive even a scrap of that food! Your refusal for three days straight is a slap to Darcy’s honor, and I won’t have you misbehaving like this anymore!”

Buchanan ducked his head further from the scolding; his hands wrung together in his lap as he stared at his white knuckles shamed and flushed. Steve paused to breathe, and his eyes ghosted over the boy’s downturned features. However, the flush he saw alighting his skin wasn’t just from his embarrassment for being chided like this. It was the flush of something completely different, not unlike his arousal he showed so vividly when they made love. Steve paused, staring at him for a moment before he shook his head and turned his thoughts back to the moment. He could discern this odd reaction later; now was the time to address his misbehavior and end it once and for all. “Three days since you have been brought into this house and it has been a struggle. Why do you fight me? Only now do you show me respect, and yet you still don’t even show the courtesy of accepting a proper meal when it is presented to you. Children and adults alike have starved and would give their left arm for even half of that, but you can’t bring yourself to even receive it with gratitude and appreciation. No more!”

Turning away from the scolded teen, Steve approached the table and the ignored, empty plate he’d set out and plucked it up. He served up small portions of each item in the dish and picked up a fork before turning back to his Pet. He stepped in front of the boy and handed the plate to the chagrined teen, before setting the fork down on the plate in his hands. “Eat. You haven’t done so since I brought you home.” Steve then stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at him expectantly. When Buchanan hesitated again, he huffed a sigh. “We will not leave this room until you do so.”

Buchanan flinched and looked up at him; his blue eyes were wide and glossy with unshed tears, and his cheeks were still pink from his aroused embarrassment. But this time, Steve would not allow Buchanan to turn it away; it was evident on the blond’s face. So with a soft sight, Buchanan looked back down at the plate in front of him and speared a piece of mushroom from the plate onto the tongs of the fork. Tentatively, he lifted the food to his lips and took a small bite, chewing the fried food up and swallowing it down.

Steve watched, tapping his fingers on his elbow as he watched his Pet take another tentative bite; suddenly, his eyes widened as he saw the boy’s appetite turn ravenous on a dime, as he scooped up a full forkful of food and begin to eat with a sudden, desperate vigor. When he had finished the tiny pile of fried beans, he turned his attention to the bangers, chewing through the small sausages eagerly as he began to clean the plate almost entirely in just a few hasty mouthfuls.

“Aye! Slow down!” Steve exclaimed, dropping down to his knee in front of Buchanan. He placed his hand on his wrist, lowering the fork from his lips before looking into his eyes. Their gazes locked for a moment, before Steve paused; the look his Pet gave him was sad, almost fearful as he swallowed his current mouthful and he averted his gaze from him. Steve frowned and wiped a small spot of grease from the boy’s lower lip with his thumb before he turned his gaze back to him. It occurred him, almost too late, that Buchanan was not refusing food because of any rebellious intentions. From the way he had simply shoveled the food into his mouth, Buchanan truly felt hungry and desired to eat this entire time. But… something held him back; something Steve didn’t understand. “Buchanan… what is it?” he asked, his anger simmering away to instant concern; his thumb caressed the boy’s jaw as he held him steady. “What is it you are not telling me? Why...” he paused and licked his lip with worry. “Why are you so afraid to eat?”

Buchanan stared into his Master’s eyes for a long moment; his lower lip trembled slightly as he struggled to summon the words to speak. After a moment, Buchanan cleared his throat and set the plate down next to him on the bed. His hands rested in his lap, his fingers folded together as he quivered with the effort to stave off his tears. He inhaled a deep breath, before he could find the words; when he did, his voice cracked loudly with an almost-sob. “Because… I must be perfect,” he finally settled on; his lower lip shivered harder still, and he looked away from his Master, as if expecting to get slapped for his words.

Steve soaked up his words with confusion; he saw the boy look away from him as if afraid he’d be struck, and he slowly removed his hand from his jaw. “Bucky… look at me.” It took a moment, but when he did, Buchanan turned his attention back to him, his eyes shimmering with those tears he had fought off for so long. “Bucky… being dead isn’t perfect, and that’s precisely what will happen if you don’t eat. You’ll grow sick and faint, and there’s nothing I can do to keep you from falling ill if you refuse food.” He didn’t understand why the hell Buchanan thought food equated imperfection; in fact, the imperfection itself was the aversion and the faint protrusion of bone from his skin that he knew would only get worse as time went on.

Buchanan shook his head and closed his eyes to prevent his gaze from meeting Steve’s again. “But at that time, I would be thin.” His voice was barely a whisper, and the choice of words made Steve’s blood run like ice.

“Buchanan…” Steve breathed, stunned by his wording; now he felt like he was the one that was slapped, and he struggled to keep his own emotions in check. What madness was in this boy’s head that made him think something so frightening? “Buchanan that’s…”

But the Consort interrupted him; as he spoke, his words rushed out, hurried and frantic, as if he was afraid that Steve would cut him off before he spoke his mind fully. “I am not thin, you will return me to Union. I must be perfect, or I will not be wanted. As perfect Pet, I can’t want nothing of myself. I only desire what Master desires, or... or I will be rejected. I can’t go back! Please…” his voice waivered dangerously, and he looked up at Steve with shining, wet eyes; a tear finally tracked down his cheek, catching on the ridge of his chin. “Please don’t send me back…”

Steve stared at him; his heart, already cracked and pained for the Consort’s confusion, broke entirely at his words. What the hell had he gone through that someone had put those poisonous words in his mind? The Union did not teach these things to their Pets. Angela never displayed any of these insecurities. Pepper and Jane both had vivacious personalities and desires that Thor and Tony readily cared for at the drop of a hat. What the hell had Buchanan been through that he thought so poorly of himself?

Almost immediately, Steve’s mind supplied the only possible solution: a previous Master. Buchanan must have been rejected for some unlawful reason and returned to the Union without a promising reason. He was only 18 years old now. How young was he when someone had convinced him that he was nothing more than a toy that had long since outgrown his usefulness at such a young age? A fiery rage bubbled up Steve’s chest at those thoughts, and every ounce of his being wished to take those evil thoughts and squash them before they consumed his Pet further. He would never _dare_ expect Buchanan to be anything but himself; Buchanan was perfection as it was. His beliefs on his expected perfection were nothing but folly and dangerous, and he wanted to convince the boy that they were wrong. Steve saw a perfect Star in him; he wished to see the boy with more meat on his figure, healthy and full of life... not starving skin and bones that would only grow more fragile with each passing day; he wished to see him smile and laugh and enjoy life and have things he wished for and wanted, without feeling like he would be punished for having those desires. He was a human being, and a lover. Not a fucking trinket.

His fist clenched at his side in his angry thoughts, and he wanted nothing more than to clock the bastard that had tried to ruin such a beautiful Pet. If he ever found out who it was…

Buchanan suddenly wrenched away from him, and Steve snapped back to his senses. He looked up to see the teen shying away from him, and he glanced down at his clenched fist. Oh no…

“Buchanan.” Steve said, his voice low and soothing; slowly, he unclenched his fist and opened his palm to him in a placating gesture. He moved slow and gentle, running his fingers along his Pet’s jaw, his bare shoulder, and finally to his chest, petting him with feathery touches of comfort and want. His anger simmered away to nothing, and his eyes shone as he looked up at him. “Buchanan… Bucky, please look at me.” His Pet didn’t move for a moment but when he did, he turned to face him, pain burning in the depths of his sad eyes. Steve smiled and gently gripped the boy’s hips in his hands. With a gentle tug, he pulled Buchanan down from the bed and into his lap; the teen straddled his legs, sitting as close as he possibly could to curl into his front. The Captain wrapped his arms around his beloved, cradling him close to his chest while the Consort threaded his arms around his neck, tucking his face into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Now you listen to me,” Steve started; his hands glided up and down the teen’s bare back, soothing his tension away and calming him. “I want you to dismiss those thoughts from your head. I am not returning you to the Union. I will _never_ return you to the Union. I love you far too much to do so, Buchanan. But your desire to starve yourself scares me terribly. I just don’t want to see you become sick; if you are sick they may take you away from me to try and make you well again, and I do not want to lose you. Please… food is good for you. You are perfect, Buchanan, but I just want you healthy. I will _always_ take care of you and love you; you are my world now, and I want to see you happy and healthy, my Little Star.” Steve paused, brushing the locks of hair from Buchanan’s eyes. When he looked down at him, he saw the faint tear-tracks on his Pet’s cheeks had grown more numerous, and he brushed them away with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “Do you understand me? I love you, and I only want what is best for you. Please… allow me to care for you. You are mine forever, and I will see to it that you are happy and whole, my love. Will you do that for me?”

Silence filled the room around them for long, tense moments. In his arms, Buchanan sniffled audibly; he rubbed his wet cheeks against the silk of Steve’s robe to dry the tears away. But when he looked up at his Master, the smile that lit his face was brighter than the sun filtering into the room around them. Buchanan met his gaze, the grey-blue of his eyes shimmering with newfound hope; he nodded to him. “Yes, Master… I understand. Thank you... thank you.”

Steve beamed down at him, his heart fluttering happily in his chest to hear those words; he’d done it. He’d finally broken through those walls that had kept his Pet so secluded from him. Laughing quietly, Steve leaned down, and pulled the teen into a tender kiss. Their lips locked, warm flesh and nippy teeth colliding happily. He cupped the back of the boy’s neck, his fingers touching the warm silk in delight as he held him so close. Breaths mingled as the two finally sealed their love together, letting go of those hesitancies and insecurities that had driven the teen almost mad for a year of his life.

When the need to breathe finally took hold of him, Steve pulled back, tugging on his Pet’s lower lip with his teeth before he nuzzled his nose. “Would you like to try and eat a little more? Go slow… you don’t want to upset your stomach.”

Buchanan nodded to him, and his stomach rumbled happily with the thought of food again. Steve chuckled and helped the boy up, guiding him back to the tea table, where Buchanan sat and took the offered plate from him after Steve had fetched it from the bed. Once Steve was sure that Buchanan had been served enough food to satisfy his hunger, he scooted his chair closer to his Pet’s and began to eat, keeping a careful eye on his love to ensure that he didn’t stuff himself too full, too quickly.

To his surprise, Buchanan managed to tuck away an entire, full plate of food in good time; when he finally pushed the plate away, satisfied of his hunger, Buchanan only left a small portion of tomato and the gristle of bacon behind on the plate. He looked up at his Master with hopeful eyes, as if he waited for the approval he needed to know that he had done well and not made an absolute pig of himself.

Steve, finally having turned his focus onto his own food, looked up from his plate and surveyed the teen’s progress. “You _were_ hungry, weren’t you?” he chuckled. Leaning over, he plucked the plate up from the table and set it back on the tray to be carried back down to the kitchen later. He then took the teapot in hand and poured his Pet a small cup of tea. “Here. Drink this, it’s delicious.”

Buchanan took the offered cup, staring down at the murky, dark fluid inside it with trepidation. This time, though, he was far more willing to give the drink a try, rather than the plate earlier, and he lifted the delicate china to his lips. He took a sip of the fluid, swallowed it down, and made a face before putting the cup down with a click of the saucer. “What is that?!” he said, giving his Master an accusing look.

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “It’s tea!”

“That is no tea! Is bitter! I have drunk before and this taste of dirt!”

Steve laughed a little harder at the affronted look his Pet gave him. “You must not like it black.” He reined in his laughter a bit before turning to the tray again. He picked up the sugar bowl and cream Darcy had been thoughtful enough to bring with the tea and offered them to his Consort with a smile. “Here. Put a bit of this in the cup. I forgot, the Union does not ever forget sugar as a staple for its larder.”

Buchanan stared down into the sugar bowl for a moment before scooping up a large teaspoon full of the white granules. He dumped the sugar into the cup, followed by a splash of cream and stirred them into the bitter drink, before taking another sip. This time, his grimace dissolved into a more satisfied smile, and he pointed at the cup. “ _This_ is tea.”

Steve stifled another laugh, turning his eyes down to the plate in front of him to hide his mirth. How could he have forgotten? From a young age, all Consorts were fed and tended to with the highest of concern for their comfort; they were never kept in uncomfortable climates or clothing, and they were never fed anything of ill taste, nor bitter. Steve realized that in his 18 years of living, Buchanan had never tasted anything like black tea before in his life. The poor thing. “Very well then,” he chuckled, picking his own tea cup up and sipping the warm liquid happily. “We won’t forget to sweeten your drinks in the future. How is that?”

Buchanan nodded in agreement, sipping his tea with a happy smile on his lips. The two of them sat in silence as Steve finished his breakfast, and the two of them polished off the teapot in record time. Steve stifled another laugh to see that Buchanan had put a sizeable dent in the amount of sugar and cream they had been brought; he replaced the top to the bowl with a gentle click, and placed his hand on Buchanan’s forearm. “How do you feel now?”

Buchanan looked up at him from his teacup, beaming at him. “Much better. Not tired anymore,” he replied; the teen scooted closer to his Master, balancing on the edge of his seat as he leaned into his touch to seek out as much contact as he could.

Steve nodded in delight. “I’m very glad to hear that, love. Now,” he paused, rising from his seat and smiling down at him. “Let’s get you a proper bath. I can only clean you as well as I can with a cloth.”

Buchanan nodded and rose from his seat immediately. He flushed a happy pink when he felt Steve wrap his arm around his waist and tug him towards the washroom. “Are we leaving for someplace today?”

Steve chuckled. “Not today, no. In fact…” he looked back over his shoulder into the bedroom, and a devious little smile crossed his lips. “I think we’re due for a day in today. Just the two of us? Would you like that?”

Buchanan nodded and instantly curled into Steve’s side; he wrapped his arm around his waist and nuzzled his cheek into his broad chest with a happy sound in his throat. “Yes, Master. I like that very much!”

Steve beamed down at him, and pressed a kiss to the bridge of Buchanan’s nose. He steered the boy into the washroom, shut the door behind them, and turned his attention to the bath. He bent over the copper wash basin, twisting the knobs to get a warm flow going, and stoppered the tub with a deft hand. But when he stood up again, his eyes fell on his Consort, and his breath caught in his throat.

Buchanan had slipped out of his silk pants once again to stand gloriously naked behind his Master; but this time, he stood obedient and calm, his hands clasped shyly in front of his waist as he looked up at Steve; the apples of his cheeks held a light pink rouge, and his eyes were hooded in barely concealed desire. When Steve turned to him, the Consort inched closer to him, and threaded his arms around his waist to press a gentle kiss to the exposed collarbone showing from beneath Steve’s robe.

Steve swallowed, feeling his skin tingling with delight as he gazed down at his perfect Pet. The Captain wrapped his arms around the teen’s waist, pulling him flush to his front; with a gentle sigh, the blond leaned down and tugged his Pet into yet another kiss; he could never get enough of the boy’s kisses. This one lingered for a few moments, the barest caresses of lips to lips and breaths mingling as they relished the others’ essence. The Captain could feel his skin burning with delight and want, and he tightened his fingers on his Consort’s body, pulling him flush until the two were a seamless line, body to body and one in this moment.

Steve suckled the boy’s lower lip, swelling it just slightly before he licked the tender flesh to soothe the faint sting away. He felt the teen curl into him at the teasing gesture, and a light whimper ebbed into the room around them. Steve shivered at the needy sound his Pet uttered, and he delved deeper into the kiss, prodding and pressing his way into the touch, until their tongues darted out, dancing and touching in sweet little brushes of affection and longing.

However, he could hear the water reaching its filling point of the tub, and he pulled away to give his Consort a little nod. Without breaking eye-contact, he reached down and turned the tub’s spigot off; the room echoed with the sudden, pressing silence that surrounded them, and he gestured with his head towards the tub. “You should get in…”

Buchanan nodded, inhaling through his nose to steady his breathing. “Will you… watch?” he asked, not bothering to fight the arousal rumbling in his throat as he spoke.

Steve shrugged a shoulder. “Only if you wish me to.”

Buchanan beamed up at him, glancing down at the water; when he looked up at Steve again, his gaze had turned sultry, dark and yearning as he peered up at him from the corner of his eye. “Of course…”

Without waiting for his response, Buchanan pulled away from his Master, turning to face the tub; he gracefully stepped inside, slipping into the warm water with barely a ripple. It was like night and day; the boy’s behavior had changed from frightened and unsure, to all the confidence in the world, as he twisted himself about to face Steve. Buchanan lounged back into the tub, arms draped over the sides of the tub as he lifted a slim leg, allowing water droplets to run down his defined calf and dribble back into the water; his olive skin had brightened in the warmth of the water and he smiled up at him with that same, inviting expression that begged Steve, ‘please, join me...’,

Steve watched with fascination as his Pet’s attitude improved almost instantaneously. He felt a flutter of delight in his stomach to know that one moment of assurance had changed the teen’s outlook so drastically. Perhaps a full meal had also done the boy wonders, as he seemed far more vivacious and happy now that his body had finally received the energy it had been craving for so long.

Steve allowed himself a moment to admire the lithe figure submerged in the warm water in front of him; his eyes raked over his figure, taking in every inch of smooth skin with a hungry gaze. He dropped down to a small chair next to the tub, and shrugged out of his robe and shirt; he tossed the clothes over the back of the chair, exposing his nude upper body to the air around them for his Pet’s enjoyment. Steve reached into the water, delighted to see that its temperature was comfortable, and traced his fingers along the smooth planes of his One’s chest. “What did I tell you…” he whispered, unwilling to break the magical moment with words. “You’re beautiful.”

Buchanan sighed, letting his head fall back over the edge of the tub with a languid air; he dropped his right arm into the water, and took his Master’s hand in his fingers. Without hesitation, Buchanan tugged his hand further into the water, until his Master’s palm stroked over his belly, just above his groin. It was nothing more than a tease, but from the way Steve’s fingers tightened around the smaller hand, the way his fingertips jumped and danced across the warm skin just above the boy’s cock, it was certainly doing its job.

Steve swallowed thickly and looked up into his Consort’s eyes. Almost instantly, he leaned in and pulled the boy close, allowing his lips to drag along Buchanan’s throat until his beard tickled the sensitive skin with each caress his lips drew across the milky flesh. How he wanted to worship this beautiful flesh, day in and day out, and prove to his Pet that he was the fairest in the world, and should forever be treated as such. Steve uttered a soft sound, his lips parting as he sucked a light mark into the boy’s pulse point. _‘Mine...’_ he thought to himself possessively as he nipped a second, slightly darker mark into Buchanan’s skin and darted his tongue out to lave over the fresh bruise with delight. _‘All mine...’_

However, the sensual moment was broken, when Buchanan suddenly giggled; he jerked away from the kiss, hunching his shoulder up to shield his sensitive neck from the prickle of his Master’s beard. “Tickles!” he laughed and peered up at him; his nose crinkled up in his mirth, and he rubbed his hand along his tingling skin to soothe away the odd sensation. He glanced up again, noting the humored expression on his Master’s face and he ducked his head, embarrassed. “I am sorry...”

“No need to be, love…” Steve purred; the carnal moment had been ruined, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Instead, he plucked up the bar of soap from its caddy, and submerged it to get a soapy lather going on the bar. “We can continue this in the bedroom… for now, let me clean your back and your hair. It would be my absolute pleasure to do so, my Star.”

Buchanan gazed into his Master’s eyes, his own shining happily in the sunlight. Without a word, the Consort slipped into the water, submerging himself completely, until he came up for air. Water ran down his face, his neck, and dripped from his hair in thick rivulets. He pushed the sodden locks from his forehead with a happy sound, clearly pleased with the feeling of the warm water washing away the last residue of sweat from his crown. When he’d wiped the water from his eyes, the Consort turned his back to his Master, arching forward in a delicate bow of his head to expose the smooth stretch of his neck and spine to him. “Please… I will be honored.”

In that moment, the two of them finally found their heart’s bond to each other, transcending every hesitance they may have felt between them; Buchanan found his comfort and his salvation in the arms and the devotion of his Master, and Steve found the love his heart had been yearning for, for far too long. As Steve washed the boy’s back and hair, his mind wandered while his hands worked automatically to soothe and tend to his Pet in devotion. It was everything the two ever wanted and they both knew, without saying a word, that they had fallen undeniably in love with each other.

Still, Steve couldn't shake the uncomfortable and bothersome thoughts from his head that his Pet had been so horribly damaged in the past. Bollocks to the rule that he couldn’t pry into the Consort’s past; he wanted to know exactly what his previous Master had done to him to put him in such an unhealthy state of mind. To think, if Steve hadn’t been the one to find Buchanan, and try so damn hard to prove to him that Buchanan _could_ be loved unconditionally… God, he didn’t want to think what could have happened to him. It infuriated him to know that a Master could be so careless and so vile to their Pet. He _would_ get to the bottom of this; when Lady Natalia returned from her travels, Steve would go to her straightaway and demand to know what it was the Union was hiding from him about his Pet’s past, come hell or high water.

But now was not the time to dwell on those thoughts; Buchanan had glanced over his shoulder at his Master, confused as to why his hands had stopped their soothing strokes. Steve simply offered his Pet a loving look, and kissed the tip of his dainty nose affectionately. “I’m still with you, Bucky… I always will be…”

 

* * *

 

Pictures! No smut in this chapter, but plenty of loving to be had :D

Doesn't Buchanan look so cute when he sleeps?!

 

Some more pretty Good morning kisses

 

And then just for viewing pleasure, more teenage Bucky

and his bearded, handsome Master, Steve

gawd they make such a pretty couple...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stories to come after this weekend. I'm going to Wizard World for two days, so I'll be away from a computer for awhile. I do hope this does tide you all over until I return. I think I'll be getting a second chapter of "The Honeymoon" out next, so that should be more fluff for you guys. ENJOY SOME VICTORIAN LOVING!


	6. Dominance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeking out the counsel of Lady Natalia, Steve finds answers to what had caused his Pet so much pain in the past. With their concerns behind them, both master and Pet find it in themselves to reach the pinnacle of their relationship and what it truly means to love the other as they were born to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 months! THREE MONTHS it took me to update this beast, and finally I have done it! I am so sorry everyone for such a delay, I do honestly hope this update makes up for the time it took me to finally write it. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! Now we finally get to the nitty gritty of their Dom/Sub relationship, and let me tell you, both Bucky and Steve are loving every second of it. 
> 
> Enjoy readers!!!

Steve grunted with the effort of lifting himself up to the beam of the stables, arms exerted to their potential as he gripped the wooden bar with everything in him. The day had broken hot and humid, unusual weather for this area, though Steve didn’t quite mind. He had dealt with worse in the past. Africa, for instance. No, the temperature wouldn’t be the issue; his arms felt tired after a strenuous marathon of bedding his Pet. After Steve and Buchanan had finally resolvedtheir issues, Steve had done wellbyhis promise to prove to his consort that Buchanan had nothing to fear in their relationship. It had been such a successful few daysthat Steve had actually received complaints from his wife that the two had made far more noise than necessary. They had even disrupted Peggy’s tea-time visit with a good friend the day after his discussion with Buchanan.

Steve felt rather proud of that actually.

But after four days of straight lovemaking with his Pet, Steve had decided to quell their incessant lust for each other and pick up his training routine once again. It was only after his first few pull-ups, though, that Steve realized perhaps he should have changed up their positions once in a while. Holding his own body weight up so many days in a row, while his Pet mewled and screamed beneath him with the utter pleasure, had taken a toll on his arms.

He tried not to tremble as he pulled his weight up, but it was proving to be a bit more difficult than usual. Not that that would stop him from continuing. He’d just have to try harder to push through the burn he felt in his biceps as he leveled his chin with the bar again.

“My God,” Steve panted, dangling from the beam for a moment to catch his breath. “I’m getting old…”

“At last, you see what I have said,” a voice cut in, making Steve look down from where he was hanging precariously. At the door of the stables, Buchanan stood quietly, his hip propped up against the wooden frame as he watched his Master exercise with obvious humor. “I _did_ say… you are old man.”

Steve scoffed at him, rolling his eyes up to the wooden ceiling above him before glancing back at his Pet. “Ah, fine. You are right, I am but an old, withered man. But I do have some strength left in these ancient bones,” he added, grinning at his Pet with interest.

“Ah,” Buchanan quipped, raising his brow at him with a challenging glance. “Prove me wrong, _old man_. I am most interested in seeing your strength.”

Steve read the challenge easily, and his eyes widened with mirth. “You cheeky brat!” He laughed, adjusting his grip on the beam. “I’ll prove you wrong in an instant. You just see what your Master can do.”

With that, Steve returned to his work with gusto, resuming his pull-ups with seemingly better ease than previous. Steve wanted to prove his strength to his Pet and remind him exactly who belonged to whom. He finished his set in record time, and swung his leg up to hook over the beam and immediately pick up his abdominal curls without pause. Unfortunately in his haste, Steve’s leg only half caught the beam, and the moment he let go, he felt his calf muscle slip from the rafter. With an undignified yelp, Steve tumbled to the floor of the stable and landed in a pile of hay he’d purposefully left out in case he took an unfortunate tumble, releasing a cloud of dust and hay into the air.

Steve groaned in dismay, feeling his backside tingling with the impact as he lay on the dirt floor, unmoving for a moment. Well… that had not gone according to plan at all. He didn’t move for a second, listening to Liberty whicker and whinny as if she too were laughing at him; he lifted his head to glare at the stall whereshe stood with a withering glance and a huff. “No apples for you today, you old nag…”

Behind him, Buchanan burst into laughter, his voice infectious and light as he giggled to himself. Steve looked up to see his Pet approaching him, his cheeks still pink with mirth as he stood above his Master with a teasing glimmer in his eyes. “Impressive. I shall get you crutch, _old man_?” Buchanan asked, reaching down and extending his palm to his Master to help him up.

Steve sighed and took the offered hand, getting to his feet. He wasn’t hurt, but his ass and his dignity were definitely bruised from the fall. “I’ll see to it that you’re properly punished for mocking me, Bucky…” Steve added. He wrapped his arm around his Pet’s neck, pulling him into his chest and scrubbed his fingertips through the Consort’s unruly dark hair. “Laugh at me will you?!”

Buchanan squealed, swatting at Steve’s hands as he tried to extract himself from his grip. “Let go!” he giggled, his pink cheeks flushed darker red and his eyes shining brightly in the light. “I’m sorry! I won’t tease you again!”

“See that you don’t,” Steve added as he loosened his grip around his neck. With his arms lax, Steve wrapped them around Buchanan’s shoulders and pulled him flush to his front. He sighed in delight when he felt his Pet return the hug, wrapping his own, thin arms around Steve’s waist as he leaned up to press a kiss to his collarbone. Steve groaned in delight, letting his head tilt to the side as Buchanan ran his lips over the expanse of his exposed collarbone. “That’s nice…”

Buchanan just hummed in return, nibbling the exposed bone for a moment before he looked up at him. “I am curious as to what you were doing. Darcy said you might be out here, so I came to investigate. What is it you do here?”

Steve shrugged, running his fingertips up his smooth spine. “Exercise. I try to keep myself as fit as possible. As I am no longer employed in the military, it is difficult to keep my physique with such an easy lifestyle.”

Buchanan smiled; he reached up and plucked a strand of hay from the tangle in Steve’s beard and tossed it to the floor. “That is why you do so well in keeping yourself up when you make love to me,” he said, batting his eyes athis Master. As if to make his point, Buchanan moved his hands from the small of Steve’s back and began to stroke his palms over the defined bulges of Steve’s biceps. “You do not need so much work. You may be old man, but you are strong and handsome.”

Steve relaxed, feeling his chest tightened at the confident, reassuring words. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his Pet’s lips, relishing the warm, plush flesh as he nibbled his lower lip carefully. “And I wish to keep myself as such for you… if not…” he paused, dragging his kisses across the boy’s nose, eyelids and forehead. “Then our play won’t be as fulfilling, now will it?”

Buchanan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Oh no! Please continue! I do not believe I could go without such play from you, ever!”

Steve laughed, and tugged the boy back into a kiss. This time, the action was hungry, and he nibbled his lip with interest. He could feel his Pet melting against his front, groaning in delight as he rubbed himself along Steve’s thigh with interest. “With your drive, Buchanan… I will do my best to maintain such fitness,” Steve whispered, letting his thumbs ghost over the collar encircling his Consort’s throat in a possessive touch.

“And maybe…” Buchanan started, before trailing off. Steve looked down at him, curious as to what his Pet wanted to say. He nudged his shoulder, getting the boy to look up at him. “Maybe you could teach me?”

Steve paused; he looked down at his Consort, confused at his question for a moment before it occurred to him exactly what Buchanan was asking of him. Buchanan wanted to grow strong too. ~~~~Just a few days prior, Buchanan wanted nothing more than to remain an undernourished, waif of a boy that only saw the inside of a bedroom. Now… now, he wanted to grow healthy and hardy, just like Steve. Itwas his greatest accomplishment yet. “Of course I can. I can teach you whatever it is you want to learn, Bucky…” Steve smiled, brushing his fingers through his dark hair. “All you need to do is ask it of me, and I will show you everything you want.”

Buchanan listened, his eyes wide with awe as Steve spoke. When he finished, Buchanan leaned up, tugging his Master into a final kiss. “Thank you...’ he breathed, and Steve shivered at the faint brush of lips and breath as he spoke. “Thank you, Master…”

Steve chuckled, feeling his own cheeks flushing with delight. He tightened his grip on his boy’s hips, tugging him closer as their kisses deepened, desperate and hungry. But just before Steve took the moment to push the boy down onto the bed of hay, a throat cleared behind them. Steve reluctantly broke away from the kiss to look up and spotted a young man standing in the doorway. The newcomer's cheeks flushed as he respectfully averted his gaze from Master and Consort as they kissed. From the look of his letter bag, and the dark, canvas pants he wore, Steve recognized him as one of their mail delivery boys from Paddington.

“B-beggin’ yer pardon, sir…” the boy stammered, finally looking up when he felt it was safe to do so. “B-but, the lady o’ the house said you would be out ‘ere. A message came in fer ya this mornin’, regardin’ a Lady Natalia Romanova. It’s no’ urgent, but she did say she wanted ta speak with you straightaway.” As he spoke, he removed a letter from his mailbag and held it up to Steve with a trembling hand, indicating that Natasha had indeed replied to his earlier inquiry.

Buchanan blinked and looked up at his Master curiously. “Lady Natalia… why does she look for you,” he asked, his voice wary and nervous.

Steve shushed him, running his fingers along his arm in a gentle touch. He reached out and took the letter from the boy, giving him a nod before reading over it carefully. “No need to worry, Bucky. I sent for her a few days ago. I just wish to speak with her on a few matters, that’s all.”

Buchanan listened, and his shoulders relaxed a touch; however, he kept his expression carefully neutral, as if he could read his Master’s real intentions through his words. Steve always found Buchanan’s level of concentration so delightfully sweet.

“Thank you, lad.” Steve added, looking up at the boy across from them with a nod. “Return to Paddington Center and tell them we’ll be there this afternoon. Have a carriage sent for us as well, if you please.”

“Yes sir! Right away, sir!” The young man parroted, waving to them as he returned to his own horse. He jumped up into the saddle and departed, leaving dust motes in the air as he rode away to the cadence of galloping hooves.

Steve watched the man ride off and tightened his grip on his Pet’s shoulders. “Right, then! We’d better get ready to go!” he said cheerfully, beaming down at his lover fondly.

Buchanan paused, his earlier discomfort gone in the blink of an eye. “You wish me to go with you?”

“Of course! May as well make a day of it, yes?” Steve asked, tugging his Consort along to the entry of the stables. It occurred to him that perhaps they could have taken their own horses into town, but he didn’t know if Buchanan knew how to ride. It would just be safer to have a carriage brought to them instead. “We’ll get washed up a bit, and then dressed. Darcy got those terrible stains out of your clothing. They’re as good as new.”

“And my slippers?” Buchanan asked, leaning needy into Steve’s side for much desired affection.

Steve melted; it pleased him to see Buchanan so open with his affections now. He wouldn’t dare argue such a change now. “Right as rain, again. Darcy is a good girl. I can always rely on her for the best. You just make sure you thank her for her work. Always be polite, Bucky. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Master!”

The two of them made the short walk to the house, where they slipped inside to change. Buchanan had no need to bathe, and simply dusted his bare feet off before changing into his muslin trousers. Steve wondered if it would be appropriate for Buchanan to wear his blouse as well, but with the pressing heat of the day, he was sure his darling would be uncomfortable in the extra layer. His trousers would have to do.

Once he was certain that Buchanan had changed and properly thanked Darcy for her work, Steve set about cleaning himself from his earlier activities. A quick bath and he felt quite refreshed as he changed into a suit for their day out. Steve slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs, where he found Buchanan, Peggy, and Angela sitting in the drawing room together as they chatted idly. Steve cleared his throat, getting their attention on himself as he stepped into the room to the click of his shoe heels on the wooden floor. “The carriage should be here at any moment, Buchanan. Let us get ready then?” He asked as he settled his hat on the crown of his head.

“A waistcoat _and_ a jacket, Steve?” Peggy asked, raising her concern carefully as she spoke. “Won’t you be too hot?”

“It’s never too warm to look your best for an Auctioneer, Peg,” Steve countered. He extended his elbow to Buchanan and smiled when the boy wrapped his arm around his and cuddled up to his side. “Besides, we’ve decided to spend the afternoon in Paddington Center. Shall I bring anything back from town while we’re out?”

Peggy thought for a moment, brushing her thumb underneath her red-painted lip and smiled. “Actually, if you could pick me up another bottle of lotion, darling, that would be wonderful. Don’t forget, you know my preferences.”

“Milk of Roses, of course.” Steve replied, adjusting the brim of his top hat as he tugged his Pet along with him. “We’ll be back in time for supper, everyone. Enjoy your day!”

“Wait!”

Steve paused, looking up as Angela clambered from her pillow at Peggy’s feet. She crossed the room, her muslin skirt billowing behind her as she rushed to the closet. “Take this with you! If you’re going to be out this day, you don’t want Bucky to get a burn!” She turned from the closet, and in her hands she held a small parasol. It was simple enough; white cloth was stretched out between silver ribbing, and the plain, ivory handle ended in a shepherd’s crook bend. It had no designs or lace on it, but stood as far prettier than most of the luxury parasols bought by wealthy women in the town. Clearly, only the Union provided such a simple, but strikingly elegant piece for their Consorts to use.

Buchanan smiled and took the parasol from her. He carefully hooked the handle over his wrist, and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Angela. I will keep it safe for you.”

“Oh, no need, Bucky!” Angela giggled. “It’s yours if you want it. I have a second one of my own. If… if that’s alright with my Mistress?” she added, looking shyly to Peggy as she asked her permission to give her property to Bucky.

“That’s very nice of you Angela!” Peggy beamed; she patted her knee and Angela cross the room to take her seat, resting on her pillow and pressing her cheek to her Mistress’s knee happily. “It’s quite alright by me if you wish to give Bucky your parasol. It belongs to you, not me.”

Angela smiled and nodded. “Then I want to give it to Bucky. He looks like he needs it more than I do.”

Just then, the sound of the carriage arriving, clattered outside the house. Steve looked up to the door and smiled before he tugged on Buchanan’s elbow. “Our ride is here. Have a pleasant afternoon, everyone!”

With that, he and Buchanan both left the house, and were greeted by the cab driver. The man was short, portly and red-faced, but had a cheerful smile on his lips as he leaped down from his perch on the back of the hansom. “A lovely day to be goin’ into Paddington, Captain! And might I say, congratulations on the new Consort.” he added, gesturing to Buchanan’s black collar. “Word’s gon’ about that ye finally consummated yer Master-ship, just this month! Town’s proud of you, sir, and might I say with good reason. That’s a handsome young man you’ve got ther’!”

Steve’s smile faltered a little, and he tightened his grip on his Consort’s elbow. How odd that so many people had been so invested in _his_ relationship with his own Pet. “Thank you. Your sentiment is appreciated,” he added, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tight as it felt. He did, however, take the moment to turn his attention back on the aforementioned Consort, and helped him up into the seat of the carriage carefully. When he was certain that Buchanan was comfortable, Steve followed him, taking his place at his right, and wrapped his arm around his lover’s shoulder.

The back of the carriage dipped as their driver took his place again, and spoke up. “Where to, Captain?!” He asked, snapping his whip to set the horse off at a gentle trot.

“The Old Theater,” Steve called over the rattling of the carriage wheels. He felt Buchanan nuzzle into his side and shield his face from the dirt that was kicked up by the horse’s hooves. Sure, the carriage had a crafted fender that would block most of the clods of dirt from being thrown up in the air, but the dust was thick that afternoon. Steve tisked, and he carefully folded his arm over Buchanan’s face, so that his coat sleeve would catch most of the dust flying up from the dry road.

“Right, sir! The Old Theater it is!”

Steve relaxed into the cushions, his arm still carefully draped around Buchanan’s shoulders as he held him to his side. He watched with amusement as Buchanan took in his surroundings with interest, watching the countryside pass them by as they rode towards town. it would only take them a short ride to reach Paddington; the outline of the city could be seen easily from their home, but the road was winding and cut through a small copse of trees. However, the day was beautiful and Buchanan soaked up the sights with interest as they rode, so Steve couldn’t find a fault in their winding path. “Are you enjoying yourself, Bucky?” Steve asked, leaning down to press a kiss to his lover’s temple.

“I am!” Buchanan replied, nuzzling his shoulder into Steve’s side. He kept his hand firmly on the parasol in his lap, and he leaned in to press a kiss to his Master’s shoulder. “I hope we may take more trips as this soon.”

“Anything you wish, my little Star.” Steve replied, pressing his cheek to Buchanan’s crown as they fell silent to enjoy their trip.

* * *

 

  
Time passed quickly as they approached town, and soon the bustle of the city caught up to them as they left the dirt road behind for cobbled streets. They took the shortest path into town towards the Old Theater, and soon pulled to a stop outside the building. Steve exited first, stepping down to the stone road before he extended his hand to Buchanan and helped him from their seat. “Thank you for the ride, sir.” Steve added, looking up to the cabbie. He tossed the man 2 shillings and tipped his hat before he threaded his arm with his Pet’s once again.

Ignoring the bustle of Paddington’s day around them, the two entered the Old Theater and out of the pressing heat of mid-afternoon. Steve removed his top hat and set it on the coat rack next to the door, before instructing Buchanan to hang his parasol up next to it. He then shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up before glancing about the foyer with interest. “Quiet today…” he commented, wrapping his arms around Buchanan’s waist.

A voice cut in. “Indeed, quiet today, but you’ve caught us at a prime moment. Lady Natalia has just returned from important business in Belarus this morning.”

Steve looked up to see a man standing in the doorway of the foyer. To look upon him at first, Steve assumed the man was Natalia’s personal assistant. But what struck him as odd was what the man was wearing; around the blond’s neck, there was a dark collar, black silk and purple velvet, with a little gold-forged arrow sewn into the fabric at the center of his throat. Clearly, this man was a Pet… but why did he wear such formal attire?

“My apologies, Consort,” Steve smiled, shaking off his confusion so that he could offer the man a proper bow. Next to him, Buchanan followed suit, presenting his formality to the other Consort in front of them. “We were just looking for Lady Natalia. I sent word for her a few days ago and wished to speak to her as soon as possible.”

The man smiled, folding his hands behind his back. “Indeed, when we returned home this morning, we spotted your request and sent for the both of you straightaway. If you both would follow me please. Lady Natalia is in her office.”

Steve nodded, taking Buchanan’s hand in his as they followed the Consort from the foyer. They took the second hall to the left and crossed the quiet corridor to a bright red door. The Consort knocked and entered, gesturing for Steve and Buchanan to follow him inside.

At her desk, Natalia sat quietly, her pen flying over several documents with expert precision. She only looked up when the door clicked shut, and her eyes landed on the three of them before she broke into a smile. “Ah, Steven. It’s good to see you,” she exclaimed fondly at the sight of them.

Then, much to Steve’s surprise, she looked to the Consort and made some strange hand-gestures, none of which Steve recognized. To add to his confusion, he heard the Consort chuckle as if he understood what she was doing, and step away from the two of them without hesitation; he approached her desk and dropped down to his knees at her side, settling his head into her lap with a contented smile on his lips.

Oh. This Consort belonged to Natalia. Of course, it made sense now.

“I… I don’t mean to pry, but what are you doing?” Steve asked, quirking a brow at their hostess.

Natalia looked up, her own ruby lips pulled into a grin as she nodded. “Ah, my apologies. Barton is completely deaf. He can only communicate by his hands. However, I found that finger-spelling is long and sufferable, so I came up with our own method of communication that’s far more efficient and quicker. I do apologize for being so rude, I should have explained sooner,” she said, running her fingers through her Pet’s hair lovingly.

Steve nodded, amazed as he watched Barton gazing at his Mistress with utter devotion in his eyes. But he was still confused. Somehow, Barton had been able to understand what Steve had said in the foyer; but if he was completely deaf, then how was that possible? “How is it that he was able to understand me?” he asked, crossing the room and taking a seat in the chair opposite his hostess. To his left, Buchanan followed, sitting down on his heels as he nuzzled into Steve’s lap from his vantage point on the floor. “It’s an amazing trick.”

“No trick at all. I heard the carriage arrive outside the office and sent him to fetch you two. When you spoke, he simply read your lips. It is something he’s learned since childhood to get by in the world,” Natalia commented, giving her Pet a loving look. “He’s quite adept at getting by unnoticed for his disability.”

Buchanan spoke up then, his voice tinged in curiosity. “If he is deaf, then how was he chosen by Union to be Consort? I have never met another Pet with disability before.”

Steve’s face flushed as he looked down at his Pet with a chiding glance. Heavens, he was going to have to ensure that Buchanan had better manners than that! “Bucky!” he scolded, watching as his Pet shied away from him for a moment.

But Natalia simply laughed, her hand smoothing over the rich, red silk of her skirt. “Oh it’s no insult to us, Steven! In fact, it’s a healthy curiosity, and one that I adore in that boy. I knew he’d be a good match with you, right from the start.” With that, Natalia turned her attention back to Buchanan and smiled. “Barton was not always deaf. It was an illness in his childhood that took his hearing from him, one winter. However, he performed so admirably in his studies that the Union kept him on and marketed him as a ‘special’ Consort. Because of his lack of hearing, Barton is far more perceptive and his sense of touch is greatly heightened, which I might add is a wonderful advantage in bed. Not so surprisingly, many people wanted him for themselves because of this advantage, but it was I that won his heart.” Natalia carefully lifted Barton’s hand from her thigh and kissed his knuckles, smiling when her Pet nuzzled into her belly with an affectionate sigh.

Steve relaxed, grateful to see that Natalia was not insulted by his Pet’s question. He glanced down at his chastised Pet, and offered him an apologetic smile before tugging him close. Buchanan settled between his legs, his own knees tucked up to his chest as he cuddled Steve’s stomach happily. “I see. Well I am glad to see that you are quite happy with your Consort, Natalia. Speaking of which, I had some questions I wished to clear up with you while I had the chance. If you have the time to speak?”

Natalia nodded and carefully extracted her Pet from her lap. She let her fingers talk to her Pet, but this time she spoke her words aloud so that Buchanan and Steve could understand her. “We’ll need a moment’s peace, love. Take Buchanan to the study, offer him tea or anything he wishes to eat, and make him comfortable. I will come and get you when we are through.”

Barton nodded, getting to his feet and gesturing for Buchanan to follow him. Buchanan eagerly clambered from the floor, and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips before following the older Pet from the room. When the door was shut and the office bathed in silence for a moment, Steve relaxed.

“Lady Natalia, I do apologize for encroaching on your day, but I had some… concerns regarding Bucky… I mean, Buchanan,” he spoke, looking up at her carefully. He was grateful he’d hung his coat up in the foyer. He was already feeling warm under the collar from the lingering anxiety that his inquiry brought on him.

Natalia, having turned her attention back to her documents, paused with her pen hovering over the paper. She looked up at Steve, her eyes narrowing suspiciously before she spoke. “I see. And these… concerns, Steve. Do they require that I fetch documents from the Union to recant your ownership of Buchanan?”

Steve coughed, taking completely by surprise from her question. “N-no! not at all, Natalia!” he exclaimed. God, even the mere mention of the idea made his heart hammer in his chest and his blood turn to ice. “Not at all! Why on Earth would you assume that of my request?”

Natalia stared at him for a moment, her suspicious gaze unwavering. After a moment, she relented and leaned back into her seat. “Good. I was hoping that that was not the case…” She trailed off, looking down at her desk. “I don’t think the boy’s heart could take that rejection, and allow him to live to see the end of the year…”

Now, Steve’s entire figure tensed at her words, and his eyes widened. “What… what do you mean?”

Natalia didn’t answer him at first. She simply waved her hand, and looked up at him. “Before I explain, please, ask your questions. I have a feeling our concerns coincide.”

Steve stared, his stomach knotting itself uncomfortably as he tried to formulate his question. After a moment, he took a deep breath and steadied himself on the arms of the chair. “It’s just… I’m not sure. Now I'm afraid to ask!” he laughed weakly. “When I brought Buchanan home, it was a struggle to get him acclimated to the house. He refused to eat food, rebuffed affections from me unless we were alone, and acted quite defiant to me every chance he could.” Steve paused, looking down at his lap.

“I finally got him to open up to me and tell me what was troubling him. He stated that he felt he needed to be perfect, even at the cost of his own health, in order to make me happy. As if…” Steve waved his hand. “As if he feared if he were not thin enough, I wouldn’t want him anymore. I’ve reminded him countless times that I find him the most beautiful boy I’ve ever met, and I love him… but it bothers me to think that may be lingering in his mind still. Can you shed some light as to what is possibly causing such thoughts?”

Natalia listened, her hands folded on her desk as Steve spoke. When he finished, she looked up at him, her ruby red lip caught between her teeth for a moment. “You know I can’t give details of a Consort’s past away to other Masters, Steve… it’s against the rules of the Union. However, what I can say is that if you were to choose to return Buchanan now, after only a few short weeks of being together, I am very convinced that he would die of a broken heart, this time.”

Steve listened, and his fingers tightened on the arm of the chair. He stared at her and an irrational anger bubbled up his chest. “This time? You mean to tell me that a previous Master did this to him?” he asked, his voice taking a dangerous edge to it.

Natalia nodded, looking up at him. She was unaffected by his anger, but her own shoulders tensed, as if she were readying herself to subdue him at any given moment. “Yes. A year ago, Buchanan was returned to the Union for some… unsavory reasons. I cannot go into detail, but his previous Master just grew tired of him and when he felt that Buchanan was not up to his expectations any longer, he had Buchanan's collar forcibly removed from his throat and returned to the Union in Belarus. At that time, it was reported that he had flecks of paint on his skin, blemishes and jutting bones that only came from a lack of proper care on the side of his Master. No one knows where this mistreatment came from; many simply claimed that Buchanan was just not a well-behaved Pet and deserved his punishment, but I, as well as several notable advocates for the Union, agree that had he been loved properly, he would have been a priceless gem in Russia for years to come.”

Natalia stood and circled the desk, sitting down on the edge as she peered at her visitor. “Shortly after his return, word got out at Buchanan’s former Master quickly found a replacement Pet named Yelena; she was a young girl with golden hair and blue eyes, and just the little waif he’d been apparently looking for. Buchanan’s heart broke further after that. For a year they worked to bring Buchanan around, but the task was long and it didn’t seem to do any good. His refusal to eat is not something new, Steve. For a _year_ , the Union maidens struggled to feed him. He barely spoke, barely did anything aside from read or sleep. They feared he would never fetch a bid in market again. But when I found him, I saw the potential in that boy and knew that there was someone out there that could love him as he deserved. I quickly vowed to bring him to England to start a new life, and after some minor paperwork, he was transferred to London, under my care specifically.”

Steve listened, his heart heavy in his chest. God, he felt as if he could cry. His poor boy, neglected and treated horribly. Steve understood now, exactly why Buchanan had been so volatile around him. He feared he would be returned anyway, no matter the promises Steve gave him. “My poor boy...” he said, cupping his hand over his mouth in dismay.

Natalia smiled, and leaned over. She cupped his bearded jaw in her palm and tilted his head up to look at him. “Captain Rogers… listen to me when I say this. You are the best thing that that boy has ever had in his life. I can assure you of that.” She leaned back and pressed her hands to her desk with a casual air. “I may have lied that night in the auction house. You… you were the only man to actually hold conversation with Buchanan. Yes, a few potential buyers went and saw him, but they were under my careful scrutiny, and none of them spoke to Buchanan personally. You were the only one I allowed to have such close, private contact. When you left the room, I went to check on Buchanan, and he was utterly smitten by you. Stated that you were the kindest, most gentle man he’d ever met in his life and he felt that you were the only suitor he actually liked in return.”

Steve listened, looking up at her in awe. “You mean that?”

“Yes, really. I purposefully had Buchanan presented very last for the auction for the very reason that I desired most of the potential buyers to empty their purses before they saw him. And when I spoke to Buchanan, I knew I had to turn to Mr. Stark quickly. He is a previous customer of mine, and we struck an agreement that I would let him purchase Buchanan, but sign full ownership over to you.” Natalia beamed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You see? There are many people that think you two are absolutely perfect together.”

Steve listened, his eyes shining with delight. He straightened up in his seat and rested his hands on his lap in a relaxed gesture. “I can see that now. I have managed to break Buchanan of some of this thoughts, but he is still shy.”

Natalia tapped her finger on her jaw. “I do hope not in the bedroom.”

“Not at all!” Steve laughed, standing from his seat. He still felt a residual anger from Buchanan’s mistreatment, but he felt much better that many of his questions had been answered. “What is it that I do from this point on?”

Natalia shook her head and stood from the desk. “That is something you’ll have to discover on your own, I’m afraid. After all, he is your submissive, Steve. You are a smart man; I’m sure you can figure it out for yourself.”

Steve nodded in understanding, though he was a little disappointed that Natalia could offer nothing more to him. “I understand. Thank you for your time and seeing to my concerns so quickly, Natalia. I am most grateful.”

Natalia nodded and gestured to the door. She led him out to the hall and down to the study, where they could hear the muffled sound of a phonograph playing inside. Steve quickly could hear the lilting melody of Bach’s Prelude in C-Major, and he paused outside the door to listen for a moment before letting himself inside.

When he did, he found Buchanan sitting on a cushion on the floor, his back tucked up against the wall and a book propped up in his lap. He’d gotten a significant ways into the book for such a short time that he’d been in the study, and to his right, Barton was carefully running a brush through the younger Consort’s hair and reading over his shoulder as he did. Steve watched, enthralled to see two Consorts looking so comfortable around each other.

Steve cleared his throat and caught Buchanan’s attention, causing Barton to look up as well. “You are done so quickly?” Buchanan asked, putting his book down on the side table. “I had expected much longer time.” Buchanan smiled at Barton and the two shared a secret laugh between each other. “Barton make good tea. Better than yours, I think.”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in mock dismay. “Always so temperamental, my love.” he teased him, crossing the room. He extended his hand to his Pet, and helped him to his feet before doing the same for Barton. “Yes, we are through. We may go out now and spend the day together. We wouldn’t want to interrupt Lady Natalia and Barton’s time together for too long, would we?”

Buchanan shook his head and turned to Barton, letting the Consort get a good view of his mouth as he spoke. “It was pleasure to meet you, Barton,” Buchanan said slowly, bowing at the waist. “We will see each other again.”

Barton returned the bow, smiling at Buchanan happily. “Yes we will, with permission. It was a pleasure to meet you too,” he said before crossing the room to stand at his Mistress’s side. He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled up to her, the two happily enveloped in each other as they watched Steve and Buchanan.

Steve chuckled, and laced his fingers in with his Pet’s to tug him towards the foyer. “Thank you again, Lady Natalia. We’ll see ourselves out.”

“If you wish, Captain,” Natalia said, smiling knowingly at him. “Do stop by if you have any additional questions. I’ll see what I can do to assist you in any way I can. Take care!”

Steve nodded and waved to them before guiding his Pet to the foyer. They fetched their things and Steve shrugged into his Jacket before settling his hat back on his blond hair. When he was situated, he extended his elbow to Buchanan, and smiled when the boy took his arm. “Very good. Now, parasol up. It’s a bright day out today, and we have it all to ourselves…”

* * *

 

The day proved to be much warmer than Steve had anticipated. He regretted not listening to his wife’s sage concern earlier that morning, and found himself cursing the damn jacket and waistcoat that he’d chosen for the occasion. Sweating under his collar had not been desirable in the slightest. At least his Pet was cool and comfortable. If Steve could only have one of the two of them satisfied, he would gladly sacrifice his own comfort for his Pet’s.

Though, much to his amusement, Buchanan was incredibly perceptive to his Master’s unease and suggested that they sit down in the park under the shade of a large tree. The sun was bright and vibrant, but the shade from the leaves offered up a canopy of darkness that both of them happily settled down beneath to rest after their jaunt through Paddington.

“Oh Master,” Buchanan sighed, seeing the drips of sweat on Steve’s temples. Steve had just plucked his top hat from his head to wipe a hand across his brow, and the Consort stared at his Master with utter worry in his eyes. “You look sick. I can help you?” Buchanan asked; carefully, he ran his fingers over Steve’s brow as if he could feel for a fever, his lower lip caught between his teeth in concern.

Steve smiled; bless this boy and his heart. Steve shook his head, and wrapped his fingers around his Pet’s wrist. He brought his hand up to his lips and kissed Buchanan’s knuckles one by one, showing him that he was indeed alright. “Nothing to worry about, Bucky. I’m perfectly alright; it’s just a little warm out. Nothing that shedding this damn coat for a moment won’t fix.” With that, Steve did just that and worked his jacket off of his shoulders before stretching out the cloth across his lap carefully. To his delight, he felt instantly cooler from the pressing heat and he leaned back against the tree to catch the breeze in delight. “Much better!”

Buchanan giggled and stretched out next to him. He carefully draped his right leg over Steve’s left and entwined himself as close to his side as he possibly could. “Good. I do not wish to see you sick. I have no talent in fixing the sick.” Buchanan sighed, pressing his cheek to his Master’s chest.

Steve relaxed, wrapping his arm around his waist as he allowed his Pet to listen to his heartbeat for a moment. “Well not to worry, the crisis has been averted,” he reassured, running his fingers up the boy’s bare shoulder. The two of them remained quiet for a moment, watching the bustle of children, families, and other Consorts and Masters as they graced the park that afternoon. As Steve watched, his eyes landed on one of the local street vendors; he was a stout, red-faced man selling what appeared to be a wide array of cakes, ham sandwiches and drinks, one hot, and one cold. From the scent in the air, Steve recognized those drinks as saloop and clove tea respectively, and he sat up a little. “But I do think it may be high time if we have a bit of something to eat. It’s been awhile, and I’m sure you’re hungry.” Steve pressed a kiss to Buchanan's temple as he pulled out his coin purse. “What would you like, darling?”

“I’ll go!” Buchanan suddenly piped up. He sat up from his Master’s side and gave him a pleading look. “You rest. I go get it.” Buchanan grinned, crossing his arms over his chest in a mock-show of defiance. “You care of me, I care of you. I won’t say no.”

Steve listened, his mind working over the moment carefully. He didn’t quite like the idea of Buchanan walking off on his own, especially in a busy park… but he could clearly see the vendor from where he sat. Perhaps giving his Pet a small moment of independence would help his confidence as well. “Alright then,” Steve relented. He pulled out two shillings, and carefully placed them in Buchanan’s palm. “I don’t mind anything in particular. Whatever you get for yourself, should do nicely for me. Just stay where I can see you. ”

“Yes, Master!” Buchanan grinned. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his Master’s lips before springing to his feet and trotting across the path that would take him to the vendor’s stand.

Steve watched, his smile never leaving his lips. Clearly, the sight of a Consort approaching the stand by himself caught the attention of many viewers, and several people stopped to get a good look at the beautiful youth passing off his coins to the vendor. Steve felt a swell of pride at the sight of so many men and women jealously staring at the young man that did not belong to any of them. To Steve’s amusement, many of them cast their glances back even as they walked, uttering hushed words of admiration in their wake.

His attention was drawn back to the stand when he saw his Pet carrying an armful of food and drink. Steve chuckled. “What did you buy?” He sat up to help his Pet unload the armful to the grass beneath them.

“Two drinks, two sandwiches and a slice of cake to share,” Buchanan answered proudly, sitting down in the grass next to his master. He crossed his legs as he sat and carefully handed Steve one of the tin cups of drink over to him. “But I must return the cups when we are done.”

“Not to worry, we can do so together when we’re done,” Steve commented as he took the tin from him. He took a sip of the clove tea and relished the cool drink happily as it soothed his tongue, parched from the heat of the day. He extended his arm to his Pet and allowed Buchanan to settle back into the cradle of his side as they ate and drank, happily picnicking together under their shady little nook in the park.

Now that they were seated together again, eyes of passers-by were immediately drawn to them, and Steve beamed as he tightened his grip around his Pet’s waist. “Look at that… so many people staring at us Bucky. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t know,” Buchanan said around a mouthful of bread and meat. “Perhaps they stare at you. You are, surely, the prettiest old man anyone has seen, yes?”

“Oh nonsense to that,” Steve said, though his words were tinged with hints of exasperation. “Have I not told you countless times that you are the true beauty of our coupling? When will you believe me?”

Buchanan hesitated mid-chew, looking up at his Master with apology in his eyes. “I am sorry… I do believe you. I just…”

“You just what?” Steve asked, sitting up a bit more. He placed his cup down on the grass and turned his Pet to look him in the eye. He thought he understood, considering his earlier conversation with Natalia. He just wanted to hear it for himself. “You are still uncomfortable accepting such praise?”

Buchanan didn’t answer. After a moment, he hesitantly nodded, looking up at him. “I am sorry. I try harder, Master… I will!”

Steve shushed him carefully, pressing a finger to his Pet’s full lips. “Shh. There’s no need to be so apologetic, my love. I’m sorry I’m pushing you, I just… I want to remove those thoughts from your head as much as I can. I’m sure your…” he swallowed thickly, wondering if it was wise to bring this up. “I am sure your previous Master was not so considerate of such a thing… no?”

Buchanan flinched, his eyes darting up to Steve’s face for a moment. He failed to speak for a time before his words finally came tumbling out in a rush. “No he was not.”

Steve didn’t answer him. Instead, he kept his eyes on his Pet, watching his shoulders begin to tremble a bit. Steve reached out and wrapped his arms around his Pet’s waist, pulling him into his lap; Buchanan went willingly, curling into his chest and tucking his head under his chin for affection. “Oh Bucky… can you tell me? Can you tell me what it is your last Master did to you? I want to try and do my very best to prove to you how wrong he was, but… if you are uncomfortable telling me the extent, I won’t pry further,” Steve cooed. He let his lips trace over his Pet’s temple, inhaling his scent carefully as he held him.

Buchanan’s shivering ceased. He looked up at Steve, his blue eyes shimmering with hurt, and he shook his head. “I am not uncomfortable. I will… I will tell you.” With that, he fell silent again, as if he were determining the best way to tell his new Master of what he went through; Steve waited patiently, his fingers running along the lines of his ribs in gentle strokes. “My… last Master was confusing. He act as if he love me at first but then…” Buchanan paused, struggling to think of the right way to word it. “He grew tired of me. Said that I should not eat because I would grow too big and ugly.”

Steve listened, his cheeks flushing furiously. To hell with this man, whoever he was. How could he not see that Buchanan was the most beautiful soul to walk this planet?! “That is unjustly cruel, Bucky… I’m so sorry you went through that.” he murmured, nuzzling into the crown of his Pet’s head.

“There is more,” Buchanan whispered. He looked up at Steve, his eyes full of sadness. “I did what I could to make him happy... but it was not enough. He finally decide I was too ugly for his bed and sent me away. He tell me he did not love me, and that he find new Pet that would make him happy. I was… removed of my collar in front of many people. Returned to Minsk that night. I never forgot all the things he did to me. He did not let me feel pleasure. He did… other things.” Buchanan stopped, shaking his head viciously. “I do not wish to speak more now. I am sorry.”

Steve listened, his eyes burning with angry tears and hatred for this bastard that had so horribly, mentally damaged this poor boy in his arms. He shook his head, tugging Buchanan closer until the boy was straddling his lap, the two of them chest to chest. “Bucky… Bucky…” Steve whispered; he felt his Pet nuzzle into his chest fully, his face tucked into his shirt collar until his breath ghosted across Steve’s neck in short, shivery puffs. “You just put that man out of your mind. You never have to think of him again if you don’t wish to. Quiet your worries, my love, I won’t press you to speak of this anymore if you don’t want to.”

Buchanan nodded, pulling back to peer down at his Master with love in his eyes. “I am sorry for everything I have done since meeting you. I did not wish to push you away at all, but I was scared… scared that his words were true and you would find me hideous and unfit for your bed. I wanted… I wanted to prove to you that I could be good lover, and nearly put you out your place. I am so sorry for doing such thing…”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. What a sweet, innocent boy. How could he ever hold a grudge to his actions, knowing what he did of his past? “It is of no concern. I understand why you did what you did, and I am proud of you.”

“You…” the Consort licked his lower lip in confusion. “You are proud of me?”

“Mhm,” Steve hummed. He leaned in and let the tips of their noses brush in a gentle touch. “Of course I am. It means you were confident enough to assert yourself and tell me exactly what you wanted of me. But if you don’t desire me to be dominant over you… I can’t fault you for that. I am just as capable of being gentle as I am dominant, Bucky. You just need to tell me which it is you desire.”

Steve let the moment linger between them as his Pet considered his options. Buchanan’s face pulled into contemplation, his teeth working over his lower lip carefully. After a moment, he looked up at his Master, and his voice took a sly turn. So quickly, could Buchanan’s demeanor change from uncertain, to sultry; as if Steve watched the sunrise of a cool, shy night into warm, inviting morning. “I do love your affection. Your loving. You are most beautiful lover. But… I do remember that night… the night against the mirror. I think that night was my favorite. It has not been the same since, and I miss it.”

Steve paused, surprised by his answer. He had originally thought that Buchanan had been adverse to such rough, domination initially; Buchanan hadn’t asked for it since then. But to know that thought had been lingering in the back of his Pet’s mind for nearly a week now…

Well, Steve was hard pressed to deny him such a request, now wasn’t he?

A wicked and wild delight bubbled up in Steve’s chest at his Pet’s words, and he smiled at him for a moment. “Oh, so you _do_ want me to exert that control? You want me to pin you down and make you beg for mercy. I see… I think I can manage that. Perhaps we can have a bit of a reminder when we return home this afternoon, yes?” he said, his voice dipping into a lower register as he spoke. He watched his Pet shudder visibly in his lap at the suggestion, and Steve chuckled. “Oh, now… Patience, _zvezda_. We’ll be home soon enough…”

Buchanan gasped, his eyes wide in shock as he stared down at his Master with awe and delight. “You... You called…”

“Yes. I do know a few Russian phrases, love. And if it should please you, I will use them whenever you like,” Steve chuckled. He threaded his hands behind his Pet’s back, up his spine and to the base of his skull, where he took hold of his dark hair. Steve gave the black strands a sharp tug, just enough where it was not noticeable to the passers-by.

But it was _very_ noticeable to Buchanan.

“ _Mmmh_!” Buchanan whimpered. He curled forward, rocking his hips down against Steve’s lap, and a whimper bubbled up his throat. Steve felt his Pet’s fingertips dig into his shoulders where he held onto him, and he whimpered louder still when Steve continued to tug his hair, massaging the roots after every sharp pull that had his Consort melting against his chest.

“Shh! Quiet now. We don’t want the others about us to know, do we?” Steve chided. As he spoke, he reached down and let his index finger dance up the front of Buchanan’s groin. Steve stifled a laugh, his eyes darting down to his front; already Buchanan was presenting, and a hard outline of his cock was visible through the thin sheath of his pants. “Hmmm what a long ride home it will be… so long until I can have you bending to me,” Steve growled. He let his lips dance over Buchanan’s throat for a moment before he pulled back and gave his Consort an authoritative look. “But that is for later. Now, you have to be good and behave for me, _zvezda_. Be my good little boy and breathe…”

“M-Master... please…” Buchanan whimpered. His voice trembled in his chest and the sharp prick of a tear showed in the corner of his eye. He cracked his eyes open for a moment, staring into his Master’s eyes, imploring him for a taste of pleasure, something to alleviate his sudden, pressing want. “Please…!”

Steve felt his Pet grind down against his lap, rocking up against the front of his belly for friction. Steve would have gladly allowed his Pet to rut up against him until he pleasured himself, but that was not what Buchanan wanted. He _wanted_ Steve to exert all of his control on him, tell him when he could come and when he could cry out. He wanted Steve to show him where to stand, sit kneel, how to present himself, and how loudly he could scream at the top of his lungs. Allowing his Pet to find quiet release in the park even under the scrutinizing eyes of passing couples, would not do at all.

Besides, his Pet was growing far too erratic with his actions; if Steve allowed him to continue, Buchanan would lose control, and no Union laws would prevent either of them from being arrested for indecency.

“Shh, love… love listen to me,” Steve whispered. He reached down, gripping his Pet’s hips and stilling his motions with a strong hold. “Calm yourself. We’ll go home now if you are feeling feverish, but you must calm down now, do you understand me?”

Buchanan whimpered, but mercifully his hips did still where he was. Still, he fidgeted slightly in his lap, and his hands dropped down to his waist, where he sullenly pawed at his front with weak intent.

Steve’s smile fell a bit, disappointed that even at his request, Buchanan was still too aroused to relax. He gripped his Pet’s wrist tightly, pulling it away from his groin and holding it to Buchanan’s chest with a firm hand. “You’re not listening to me, little _zvezda_. Take a moment, get yourself under control. If you can’t, then we won’t play when we get home.” Steve added, his voice firmer as he stared into his Pet’s eyes. “Is that understood? No play, if you can’t calm yourself.”

Buchanan whined, but removed his free hand from his lap to press to Steve’s thigh. Steve hid a flinch when he felt his Pet’s nails digging into his leg for a moment, but it seemed to ground Buchanan enough to get his breathing back under control. “Yes.. Yes, M-master… I will be calm…” he whimpered quietly. This time, he took great pains to breathe deep and sure, and his heart calmed down moments later until he was pliant in his Master’s grip.

Steve chuckled, letting go of his wrist and pulling him close. He let his lips dance over his Pet’s sweaty brow, and he hummed in delight. “What a good little boy. Let’s go home… We’ll see exactly how far you desire to go in this new role, my Pet…”

Buchanan nodded, looking up at him with lust burning brightly in his eyes. “Yes, Master…”

Neither of them would admit it, but it certainly proved to be quite a long ride home after all.

* * *

 

Steve completely forgot about Peggy’s lotion.

Normally he would have felt somewhat chastised for the slip of mind, but he was too intent on thinking of his Pet, whom had retired to the garden the minute the two of them had returned home, to really think about it. So he simply took the chiding he got from his wife for the mistake, offering up an apologetic smile to her when she had finished her tirade. He couldn’t help but chuckle when she slapped him in the arm for his seemingly flippant thoughts. There was no doubt in his mind that Peggy was a good wife, and one he couldn’t live without these days.

“Honestly, Steven, it was one thing I requested,” Peggy sighed, her annoyance abating as she read his expression. Within moments, her ire melted away to amusement, and she relented finally, stepping away from him. “Ah, but I see your mind is elsewhere. I take it your meeting with Natalia went well then?”

Steve nodded, hanging his jacket up on the coatrack before plucking his hat from his head. “Indeed it did. We managed to discuss a few concerns regarding Bucky and everything has been tended to finally.”

“Good,” Peggy replied, turning away and heading into the kitchen. “I will put on a kettle for tea. Will you and Bucky be joining us? Darcy will have dinner ready within the hour.”

“Actually, I think I must find where my boy has gone off to,” Steve commented, looking to the window. He spotted his Pet sitting in the grass in the garden and he smiled. “Ah, there he is. I think we’ll pass this time, darling, but thank you for the offer. We will be in for dinner, though.”

“Very good then,” Peggy said, gesturing to the door. “Now go, see to him. I know you’ve had enough of me bothering you about the silly lotion. I’ll see if Sam can pick up a bottle for me when he goes into town tomorrow.”

“He’s a good man. He won’t forget.”

“Hmm, or he doesn’t have a pretty little Pet to distract his mind from such simple requests, more like it,” Peggy shot back, winking over at her husband before she disappeared into the kitchen fully.

Steve laughed, shaking his head in amusement before he made his way outside. He crossed the stone path from the house to the garden, and reached down to brush his fingers through his Pet’s hair lovingly. When Buchanan looked up at him, Steve smiled and took his seat in the garden chair, lounging back with a casual air. “My apologies for taking so long…”

Buchanan smiled, putting his book down in the grass and turned to face him. “Did Miss Peggy yell at you?” he asked, resting his chin on his Master’s lap carefully.

Steve chuckled; he let his fingers dance through the tousled, dark locks in front of him, and he relished the sight of Buchanan melting into his touch fully. “A bit, yes. But it is well now. She never stays mad at me long.”

“She is good woman. I like her,” Buchanan murmured. He nuzzled his head up into his Master’s palm, uttering a tiny moan of delight at the soft, gentle strokes that soothed him in his spot. “But not as much as this…”

Steve relaxed, letting his eyes roam over his Pet’s figure as he watched him melt into his touches. How he loved seeing his Consort so pliant and willing in his grip, just as he should be. “She is indeed a good woman. I’m glad you like her.”

Buchanan didn’t speak. Instead, he uttered a contented sigh, nuzzling his cheek into his Master’s thigh with delight to soak up his heat and his scent.

As Buchanan nuzzled his lap, Steve felt a shiver of want run up from the inside of his thigh, into his belly and down into his groin. Clearly, Buchanan had not forgotten at all about their earlier teasing in the park and wished to resume their play as quickly as possible. Steve was quite happy to oblige; there was really no need to deny it, when he was already growing hard. “ _Zvezda_ …” he purred. His fingers tightened in Buchanan’s hair, giving the soft strands a firm tug. Buchanan gasped at the sharp pull, and Steve chuckled. “Give me the book. I’ll read a chapter to you, but you have to do something very important for me.”

“Yes… what is it?” his Pet asked, looking up at him with desire in his dark eyes.

Steve relaxed, letting go of his hair for a moment. “You must keep your head in my lap, the whole time. Do not move it. If you lift your head, then we will not play. Understood?”

Buchanan nodded eagerly, scooting closer between Steve’s legs so that he could carefully rest his head in Steve’s lap. From his new position, Buchanan kept his cheek firmly pressed up against Steve’s groin, warming his half-hard cock with the expanse of his cheek against his lap. “Yes, Master…”

Steve shuddered, but kept his composure as best as he could. He took the book from Buchanan and flipped it to the last page his Pet had been reading. When he had the book carefully propped up on the arm of the chair, Steve threaded his free hand back into his Pet’s hair, holding him in place as he began to read.

Steve’s voice lilted through garden and true to his command, Buchanan kept still as he pressed his cheek to his Master’s cock. Even without stimulus or friction, Steve’s length had hardened completely his trousers, aroused by his Pet’s absolute devotion to the command given to him. His hand tightened in his Pet’s hair, pulling the dark threads sharply every so often, until Buchanan was whimpering in his lap. Those whimpers turned a dark switch inside Steve, and he found himself absentmindedly rutting up against his cheek as he pressed his beloved’s face into his groin further. Steve’s voice hitched slightly as he read, the warm friction against the cloth of his trousers, and the submissive little whimpers that escaped his Consort flooding his senses until he could barely read the words on the page.

But when Steve felt Buchanan shifting slightly in his position, he turned his attention away from the book and down to his Pet. Buchanan was flushed dark red, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and his hips squirming on his pillow as he struggled to keep his position. Clearly, the scent of musk, and the powerful grip his Master had on his hair was pushing Buchanan into a realm of utter bliss, and Steve found himself unable to keep reading any further.

“Nnh… good boy. What a good… little boy…” Steve groaned. He placed the book down on the side table, not noticing as he knocked a bottle sitting on the wooden top. With both hands to himself now, Steve yanked on the boy’s hair, jarring him slightly as he wrapped his free hand around the base of Buchanan’s neck. He tugged him closer, rutting his hips up against his cheek harder until he could barely hold his own head up. He slumped back, moaning in the back of his throat as he thrust up against that smooth skin, feeling the part of Buchanan’s lips against his cock; he could feel puffs of warm air against him through the fabric separating them, and Steve bit his lip as he continued to grind up into the warmth above him. “You are doing so well… listening to me. You’re doing so wonderfully…”

“M-Master… please… _please_!” Buchanan whined; still, he didn’t move from his position, though it was clearly becoming more difficult as the moments passed. With every rut of his hips, Steve could feel Buchanan struggling to hold still. With each time he yanked on that dark hair, he could feel Buchanan’s body shuddering between his legs, aroused and needy for his touch. It was time to move this along.

“Good boy… _Zvezda_ … nnn, sit up.” Steve groaned. He looked down the moment Buchanan’s head popped up from his lap, and he smiled down at the flushed boy in front of him. “Now...” Steve gestured to the fly of his trousers and he smirked at him, a wicked and dangerous smile that lit his face. “Suck.”

Buchanan stared at him, panting for breath as his sluggish mind struggled to piece together what he said. After a moment, it seemed to come to him and he lunged forward, his hands attacking his Master’s trousers, undoing the belt, button and zip, and tearing his pants open eagerly. When he had Steve’s cock threaded out from the confines of his clothes, Buchanan licked his lips hungrily as he stared down at his length with intent. But just as he leaned forward to swallow him to the hilt, Steve placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.” Steve ordered. He smiled broadly when Buchanan halted in his place, trembling with the urge to hold absolutely still, but listening all the same. “Very good, little boy. Stand up for me.” As he spoke, Steve reached up, and undid his tie, pulling the silk cloth from his throat and holding the length up with both hands. “Turn your back to me and hold your hands behind you.”

In an instant, Buchanan was on his feet. He turned his back to his Master, folding his wrists behind him with a whimper of delight. He looked back as he watched Steve tie his hands together, and Buchanan uttered a throaty groan in the back of his throat. “M-Master…!”

“Shh,” Steve ordered, looking up at him. Without taking his eyes off of his Pet, Steve brought his palm down across the boy’s ass, the sharp sound of his palm cracking against his skin echoing in the garden. When Buchanan yelped out, Steve’s limbs trembled hungrily as he kicked the little cushion Buchanan had been sitting on, away from their spot. He pointed to the grass and snapped his fingers in command. “Kneel. And get to it.”

Buchanan whimpered, turning in his spot and dropping to his knees between Steve’s legs. With his hands tied behind his back, Buchanan had little way of pushing the flaps of Steve’s trousers to the side, so he simply nosed his way in, taking Steve’s cock down his throat in one quick swallow. He moaned when the tip of his prick hit the back of his throat, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. Once he had Steve seated in his throat, Buchanan sucked, drawing his head up and bobbing in his spot, until his lips were dragging across the length of silky skin in a firm touch. He swirled his tongue along the tip, tonguing at the slit in Steve’s cock before he plunged back down with fervor, his nose brushing the hairs of his Master’s groin with each downward stroke.

“Dammit!” Steve groaned. His fingers went right back into Buchanan’s hair, tugging hard as he bucked up into his willing throat. When he felt Buchanan gag slightly around his length, Steve hesitated, looking down at him with wide eyes. He very nearly pulled Buchanan off of him, but at the insistent little noises his Pet made when his hips stopped, and the way he looked up at him through his lashes, Steve knew that that wasn’t what he’d want. He’d want Steve to continue on, no matter what. Steve huffed out a shuddering gasp, his fingers raking over the boy’s scalp as he continued to thrust up into that hot, wet mouth around him. “Fuck... fuck! You are… you are wonderful!”

Buchanan simply moaned back in response, suckling harder and more insistently as he swirled and licked the hot prick in his mouth. He pulled off with a pop, leaning down to nose his way further into his Master’s pants. When he had succeeded in doing so, his tongue darted out, lapping at his balls happily before sucking one into his mouth and rolling it carefully in the warmth of his lips.

Steve grunted, his fingers tightening in his Pet’s hair until he was sure he could pull the black locks out by the root. His free hand fisted, and he pounded it on the arm of his chair, fighting every urge in his body to twitch under his Pet’s experienced mouth. “Fuck! Bucky! _Zvezda_! Oh God… slow down,” he ordered. He yanked on the locks hair between his fingers, pulling his submissive up from his position on his knees. When Buchanan looked up at him, his pouty lips spit-slicked and swollen, Steve shook his head at him, smiling through his frantic breathing. “Slow down. Don’t want me to come too soon, now do you,” he asked, breathing a little more evenly. He brushed his boy’s hair back from his brow, soothing him with gentle touches as he met his gaze lovingly.

Buchanan whimpered, but nodded at him. “No Master... I will slow…” he whined. He looked down at his red, dripping cock, licked his lips, and descended again; this time, however, he was slow as he swallowed his girth, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked him off, slow and gentle this time.

Steve moaned, slumping back into his seat as he Pet took on a new, slower cadence with his work. He stretched his leg out, slouched back as he bucked up into his throat, until his Pet’s choking ceased altogether. Minutes passed, and Steve could no longer fight the moans in his own throat as he pleasured himself with his Consort’s willing lips and gentle touch. Even still, that mouth was too hot and too sinful, and he found himself inching closer to orgasm with each suckle. He had to move this along quickly.

Steve panted, looking down at his Pet as Buchanan continued to suckle and mouth at his prick like the sweetest treat. He knew, without a doubt, that Buchanan was still rather pliant from their week of exploratory sex, but he wasn’t about to push this along without at least lubricating his boy up again. The last thing he needed was to lose his head and tear him apart, as he very nearly had done a week ago. But with poor planning, Steve had left his lubrication up in their bedroom, and he was not about to stop their progress now.

But just when Steve was certain that they’d have to finish off with their hands, he cast a look over to his right at the table next to him, and he spied the bottle on it. It was the remains of Peggy’s Milk of Roses. There wasn’t much left in the bottle… but it was definitely better than nothing.

Panting, Steve reached out and snatched the bottle from the table, uncorking it quickly. When the rosy scent wafted up into the air, Steve looked down at his Pet, and cupped his hand beneath his jaw. He pulled him off of his cock, and stared down at him with burning need in his eyes. “Into my lap, Bucky. Back to me.”

Buchanan nodded, scrambling to his feet as best as he could without the use of his hands, and he turned. But just before he could sit back onto Steve’s lap, Steve reached out and pulled his muslin pants down around his hips, exposing his ass to the cool air. Buchanan whimpered, and Steve shushed him carefully, dolloping a hefty amount of lotion onto his fingers, before spreading his cheeks. He paused for a moment, letting his gaze drift over the needy pucker of his hole as he carefully circled his slick finger over the trembling muscle. God he loved the sight of his Pet’s body; the warm touch of his silken flesh, the faint smattering of pink that colored his pucker and drifted down to the smooth line of his taint, his cheeks fleshy… Steve was enraptured as he admired the handiwork of God at his fingertips until the needy whine of his Pet brought him back to his senses. With a hum of delight, Steve broke free of his trance and worked the lotion into the boy’s hole, stretching him quickly with two fingers as he pumped his hand back and forth, thrusting into his lover’s ribbed channel with careful strokes.

True enough, Buchanan’s body opened up for him almost instantly, and the Consort’s whine grew louder at the sudden intrusion. He thrust his hips back against his fingers, his legs trembling violently as he bent forward, spreading himself further for his Master. “Oh fuck! _Chert_! M-master! Oh please please, _please_ fuck me!” he begged, not caring in the slightest if his voice rose impossibly so.

Steve growled, leaning forward. He nipped at the globe of his Pet’s ass, leaving a dark red mark on the pale skin there before he pulled back. He poured a second dollop of lotion into his palm and slicked up his cock with a twist of his wrist and hurried strokes. When he was certainly lubricated up for this moment, he gripped the boy’s hips and tugged him back onto his lap with a rumble of delight in his chest. “Good boy… good, obedient little boy. You listen so well. You are my perfect little star, and I will make you feel so good…” he panted.

Buchanan only whined louder, grinding back insistently as if he couldn't bear to wait a second more. It was heavenly, how desperate he was to be filled to the brim and stretched beyond his limit with his Master’s girth and he twisted in his clutches, letting the cleft of his ass stroke Steve’s cock desperately. “I can't wait! I need you! _Please_!”

Steve was helpless to that eager plea; growing hotter himself, he watched his length pass between his cheeks a few times until he too was shaking like a leaf in the chair. Humming in his throat, Steve pushed his Pet’s hips off of him long enough to grip himself in a trembling fist. Lining his cock up with the Consort’s hole, Steve pulled his Pet down onto his lap once more, nudging the blunt tip against his pucker. When he felt his boy’s resistance giving way easily, Steve strengthened his grip on his hips, and thrust up quickly into that tightness with a moan of delight caught in his chest. “Fuck! Always so tight for me my little _zvezda_!” he panted, bottoming out inside him.

Buchanan howled, back bowing slightly as he was seated so suddenly on his cock. He rocked his hips back against his lap, grinding himself down onto his dick until his ass was flush with his Master’s groin, fingers flexing desperately behind his back as he succumbed to his control. “ _BLYAD_ ’!! Oh God, fuck me! Master, please! Harder!” Buchanan sobbed, his entire body trembling as he pressed himself further onto his cock with want.

Steve wheezed, looking up at his Pet as his dawning realization overtook him. Buchanan was not moving. Buchanan wanted Steve to take control. Of course! Why the fuck was he sitting still?! “Ah… Bucky!” Steve hissed. “You needn’t... beg me twice!”

With that, Steve picked up a vicious cadence, pounding up into his Pet’s ass fast and wild. The echo of skin against skin danced across the garden, punctuated by their panting and moans. Struggling to keep focused on the task at hand, Steve looked down; entranced by the sight of himself penetrating that wanting body above him was nothing short of glorious and he stared openly, his fingers tightening on Buchanan’s hips until he left sharp bruises in his flesh at each point of his fingertips.

Steve’s mind clouded over with lust, taken over completely by this wild moment. Every time Buchanan twisted or squirmed in his grip, his fingers only tightened further still, until the boy’s thighs trembled dangerously. Taking his moment of clarity, Steve adjusted his grip and wrapped his fingers around his Pet’s wrists, pushing his hands to his back as he pushed and pulled his lover’s body against his own.

In the past, Steve would have feared terribly that this was wrong, that he was frightening the boy or hurting him. Just a week prior and Steve would have been absolutely mortified at his animalistic streak, clutching the boy in a bruising hold and keeping him completely immobile on his lap, helpless and unable to fight him off if he tried. But it didn’t take much to prove to him that these tugs, the wild strands of his hair sticking up from where Steve had pulled it, and the red mark on his ass where he would periodically spank him…

This all made that little flame of want in Buchanan burn brighter and brighter. Buchanan was not frightened by his rough touch; he was thriving by it, left a mewling, wanton figure on his lap, squirming and begging for more, harder, faster, more dominant!

Of course, Buchanan wanted to feel used and desired so viciously. He wanted Steve to control his every move while they fucked. Steve may have feared the repercussions in the past, but now… now he couldn’t see it any other way.

And with each feeble twist of his Pet’s hips on his lap, every moan that was ripped from his raw throat as Steve pummeled that tender spot inside him, Steve knew that he couldn’t hold himself back for long.

Without warning, Steve let go of his Pet’s wrists, and wrapped his arms around his waist. With one arm around his Pet’s stomach, and the other beneath his left thigh, Steve suddenly picked the boy up and stood from his spot. Buchanan yelped in surprise as he was lifted into the air, still plugged full with Steve’s cock. “OH! What-!” Buchanan whined, looking back at his Master with confusion on his flushed, sweaty face.

Steve didn’t answer him. Instead, he dropped to his knee, pushing his Pet down to the silky, green blades, his ass propped up. Never once did Steve withdraw from his body, his prick still hard and unforgiving inside him as he pressed his hands to his boy’s back. He held Buchanan down on his front, his fingers wrapped around his wrists again and picked up a brutal, unforgiving pace without delay. He thrust desperately, splitting him in two as he drilled him into the green earth beneath them. Steve’s breath escaped him, ragged and desperate, and his fingers tightened on his wrists until he could feel the cloth of his silk tie giving way beneath his fingernails. He made absolutely sure to keep the cut of his nails away from his lover’s skin; he could stomach leaving those faint little bruises in his flesh as marks of his adoration for him, but never would he draw blood. His Pet was too precious to mark in such a vicious manner.

But this was not the moment to lose himself to this utmost pleasure. He had important business to care for now; Buchanan responded to pleasure most favorably. Perhaps now, with his length buried in his ass and stroking him into ecstasy, Buchanan would finally listen to what he had to say. “Don’t speak. Don’t shout. Do not even whimper!” Steve growled into his ear. He maintained his hold on him, his left hand gripping his Pet’s hip as he fucked him, claiming that boy for himself and only himself.

Buchanan barely responded to his command, his fevered mind too lost to the lust burning beneath the surface of his flesh like fire. He whimpered through his Master’s words, his fingers twisting in the silk binds around his wrists desperately. Steve frowned, leaning away from his back for a moment. Instantly he stilled his hips and raised his hand from his hip, bringing the flat of his palm down across his backside in a sharp “crack!’ that resonated across the garden. “Buchanan! Listen to me!” he commanded, his voice dipping into an authoritative low as he stared down at his Pet.

At last Buchanan listened, his mouth snapping shut mid-whimper as he pushed back against his lap with desperation. His eyes were wide and wet, brimming with tears of joy as he stared up at his Master from the vantage point of the grass beneath his cheek. Steve adored that look, his eyes drinking in the sight of his Pet’s bliss. A smile crept across Steve’s lips as he glanced down at the bright red mark that he left behind on his ass, and he soothed his palm over the mark, massaging the sting away before his attention returned to his boy’s eyes.

“Now you listen to me,” Steve panted. He angled his hips, drilling back into his Pet’s prostate with slower, more deliberate thrusts until he could feel the teen shivering wildly beneath him. “You will listen to me and you will remember this. You are going to forget everything your previous Master did to you. All that matters is what I tell you and what I give to you now. You are beautiful, and you are _mine._ I will make sure you have nothing but pleasure in your days now, and I will tell you that you are loved until I draw my last breath. You. Are. Beautiful. Do you understand me?”

Buchanan choked on a whine, nodding eagerly as he looked up into his eyes with desire brimming on the surface of his gaze. He grunted at a particularly hard thrust, rubbing his cheek into the grass beneath him as he held his tongue. One particular whine, though, could not be held back and his eyes widened as he looked up at him hoping that he hadn’t disappointed his Master in letting such a simpering moan leave him.

Steve smiled, shaking his head as he leaned over. With his chest flat to his boy’s back, Steve pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment as he breathed heavily. “It’s alright. You can speak now… Just remember… I will love you forever, my little _zvezda_. Never… ever forget that.” Steve leaned in, pressing his lips to the nape of the Consort’s neck. As he did, he nipped at his skin, catching the sweaty strip of his collar between his teeth and laving over the damp cloth. He caught Buchanan’s flavor on his tongue, and a primal thirst overwhelmed him. With his chest lined along the boy’s back, Steve wrapped his arm around his waist, drawing him close until the two were lined up perfectly, one body as they undulated in the grass together, one filled to the brim and beyond, the other marking and possessive.

Like a dam, all the words and all the whines that Buchanan had been holding back were released. His eyes screwed shut as he cried out into the chilling air of evening, his voice choked and shaken with each thrust that split him in two; he was boneless beneath his Master’s touch, taking everything he gave him and screaming in obscene pleasure as his walls fluttered and clenched around his cock. He whimpered his pleas, a litany of ‘yes, please, more!’ flooding from his pink lips until he was babbling incoherently beneath Steve. He writhed and twisted beneath his hands, pressing back to take his length as far as he could manage, hungry to nothing else but this overpowering, cloying need to be fucked and marked by his Master

Steve huffed, pressing his forehead to the back of his neck as he rutted into that tight channel around him. His Pet’s walls began to tighten around him, a vice of hot flesh around his length stroking him until the rose lotion between them had all but soaked into their flesh. Now all that remained was burning friction, the only lubrication between them left behind by Steve’s pre-ejaculate as he drew closer to the edge of his release.

“FUCK! _Auunh_ , fuck M-Master! I’m-! I’m going to come,’ Buchanan begged, writhing beneath him wildly. Like an untamed beast, he bucked back against his thrusts, seeking out that deep friction inside himself, lost to the world save for this one, heavenly moment between Master and Pet as they coupled in the deepest way they possibly could.

Steve knew they were both close. From the tightening pool of heat in his own belly, and from the desperate, keening whines in his boy’s throat, it would only take a few more moments before they were coming together. So he made the most of it, his eyes straining in the darkening of evening sky to watch his Pet come completely undone. He held on for a few more moments, hips never slowing as he pummeled his Pet’s nerves like a piston, accented by the click of his belt dangling to the side with a metallic chorus.

Finally, he was rewarded for his efforts; with a shriek of pleasure, Buchanan came, spilling into the grass beneath himself as he tensed, clenching around him like a vice as his walls fluttered and clamped down on his cock without hesitation. His entire body shuddered with pleasure, a full body roll of muscles that tightened up, before he finally went limp against the messy grass beneath him. From the whimper, the moan, and the way his eyes rolled to his skull with the final, relieving of all the tension in his body, Buchanan went lax beneath his Master as he breathed raggedly around the choked off bliss in his throat.

Steve couldn’t hold it any longer. He thrust up into him, grinding into that tight channel as he spilled over the edge into white-hot pleasure; with a grunt of barely concealed awe, Steve filled him to the brim with his release until he too felt boneless and pliant. But he didn’t collapse. Steve caught himself on the ground, pressed up along the line of his Pet’s back as he heaved for breath, holding tightly to his waist as he came down from the crashing tidal wave that overtook every nerve in his body. His cock twitched and spurted into his hole a final time before the two of them finally succumbed to orgasm together.

Neither of them moved for a long moment; too lost in each other’s warmth and wet release, they could barely move for the longest moment; only when the heat of their lovemaking abated, leaving them vulnerable to the cool night air around them, did this spell finally break over them. Steve breathed through his nose, raining caresses along his boy’s bare back before he was weakly sitting up on his heels to survey the damage he’d caused. He pulled his Pet into his arms, feeling the dead-weight of his listless body collapsing against his chest. Steve wrapped his arms around his waist and showered his lover’s neck and shoulders with kisses; he laved at the warm, sweaty skin in front of him, taking his time until he could finally feel the blood rushing back into his limbs once again.

Neither of them moved for a moment, too wrapped up in each other to even stir. Steve could feel his Pet’s exhausted figure growing heavier in his arms, and he chuckled to himself. He peered over his shoulder to his boy’s face and was delighted to see that Buchanan was so deeply in the throes of his bliss, he was actually beginning to doze off in his arms. He looked up to the rest of the garden, watching as a fine mist began to settle over the grass as the cool of another English evening overtook the warmth of the day earlier. Steve was reluctant to disturb him... but if he didn’t move the two of them now, they would both be left out in the chill, and he wouldn’t dare risk letting his lover fall ill if he could help it.

“Bucky... love…” Steve purred, tilting his boy’s head up to kiss him. Buchanan turned weakly, leaning into his kiss before his forehead connected with his Master’s cheek; he was barely conscious now, too tired and too content from their lovemaking to keep his eyes open a moment longer.

Finally, Steve could feel that his limbs were strong enough to support himself, let alone walk his Pet into the house at all. With a groan, he carefully withdrew from his hole with a wet slide; he watched in fascination as his release dribbled from his Pet’s abused channel to the grass beneath them, and Steve laughed. He was sure the fronts of his own trousers were noticeably soiled now; he hadn’t removed his clothing at all during their play. Not that he really cared at that moment.

So with a careful hand, Steve pulled his Pet’s pants back up over his hips, and tucked his own, flaccid cock back into the confines of his clothing. With a quick twist, he had his tie undone from his Pet’s wrists, and stuffed the silk strand into his pocket. “Buchanan… wake up, love. It’s time to go inside.”

Buchanan didn’t stir.

Steve chuckled again, shaking his head as he turned the boy in his arms. With a strong grip, he pulled Buchanan into his chest, draping his arms over his shoulders so that his chest was lined up with his own, and his head was propped up on his shoulder. He gripped him by the thighs and wrapped them around his own waist to secure him to his front. With that task done, Steve carefully got to his feet, and held his Pet close as he carried him into the house.

As he entered the hall, Steve could hear the clicking of cutlery in the dining room, and knew that they had both all but missed dinner. Ah well. He could come back and fetch them both some food from the kitchen later. But just as he turned to carry his sleepy Pet up to their bedroom, he found himself face-to-face with Darcy, the poor girl’s cheeks flushed red and her eyes averted from him. “Darcy, dear what is wrong?” he asked, looking down at her. Even still, Buchanan did not move, too busy dozing against his chest as he was held up like a child sleeping in his father’s arms.

“Uhm… beggin’ yer pardon, Steve... but I was just goin’ to offer to brin’ the two of ya some food up to yer rooms,” Darcy stammered. Even as she spoke, she kept her eyes away from Steve, as if she were ashamed to look at him at all.

Right then and there, Steve knew.

“You watched us, didn’t you?” he asked, chuckling lightly at her blush. When Darcy flushed further still, Steve laughed louder, the sound only slightly disturbing his Pet from his doze. He adjusted his grip on his Pet’s thighs, holding him closer so as to prevent him from slipping from his arms, and he nuzzled his bearded jaw into his temple to calm his Pet and reassure him, ‘I’ve not gone away’.

“Y-yes, sir. From the kitchen window. And that, I might add, is not somethin’ I’d wish to be repeatin’ anytime soon!” Darcy exclaimed, covering her face with her hands. “Oh dear, I can… is that Miss Peggy’s lotion I smell?!”

Steve snickered, nodding slightly as he crossed the hall to approach the staircase. “Indeed. Don’t tell her, she may have my head if she knew,” he added, winking at Darcy. When the girl stammered again, Steve shook his head in amusement and turned away. “You have no need to bring the food up, Darcy. I’ll come get it myself. I think you’ve had enough work for the day. Take the evening off. We can manage just fine. I think you’ll need to recover yourself, won’t you?”

“Recover… isn’t exactly the word I’d be usin’ right now, sir…” she said, looking highly embarrassed as she shifted awkwardly in her position.

Steve’s eyes widened before he grinned at her. “I won’t say a word, Darcy. Go do what you need to do, there’s no shame in that. Though I might suggest a pillow if there will be any noise.”

Darcy choked on her tongue, her eyes wide before she shot him a dark look. “Yer a menace, Captain Rogers. A terrible menace!” With that, she turned and sprinted from the hallway to disappear into her rooms for the night.

Steve made a mental note to avoid her section of the house for the remainder of the night for her privacy.

With a smile on his lips, Steve ascended the staircase with his precious cargo in tow. Buchanan didn’t stir a bit as he was carried up to their rooms, his head lolled against his Master’s with each step Steve took. Finally, after a few laborious moments, they reached the top of the staircase, and Steve took his Pet directly into their suites. The bed was freshly made and inviting, and Steve carefully settled his sleeping Pet onto the soft blankets before them. By then, Buchanan stirred just a bit, his eyes cracking open as he looked up at his Master with drowsy interest.

“Master… I did not... fall to sleep did I,” he asked, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes in a dozy fashion.

Steve smiled, shushing him carefully. He disappeared into the bathroom to get his things, returning to the bedroom when he had his vials of oils and soap, the wash basin of water, and a clean quilt to wrap his beloved up in. Without disturbing his Pet, Steve settled his things down on the table and carefully striped out of his clothing. He let them fall to the floor before he crawled into bed with his Pet, and carefully extracted the sticky pants from his Pet’s hips.

“You did, but that is alright, love,” Steve reassured him. He brushed his fingers along his brow, pushing the dark hair from his forehead and pressing his lips to the warm skin there. “Just relax and let me take care of you. You did so well, my darling. So good...” Steve purred. He then leaned down and kissed his Pet, letting the moment linger as he inhaled his lover’s scent with delight.

Buchanan whimpered, leaning up into the kiss before he slumped back into the cushions with a moan. “I am so tired…”

“Then sleep, _zvezda_ … I’ll take it from here,” Steve murmured. He sat up and grabbed the bowl from the table. Soaking a rag in the water, he lathered up the soap bar across the wet surface and carefully began to clean the sweat, grass and come from his lover’s body. He watched his Pet melting into the blankets, settling further into the bed with each inch of skin his Master covered with the quilt he’d brought, masking damp skin from the night air.

When Steve finally had his Pet fully cleaned, he wrapped the both of them up in swaths of blankets, cuddling his beloved up to his chest. He worked silently, rubbing lavender oil into his boy’s hips from the bruising, and watching with delight as his beloved slipped back into blissful slumber, snoring silently into his Master’s bare chest as Steve massaged away the tension, the bruises…

But most of all, the hurt that had plagued his body for so long. It was like magic, watching his Pet melt into that comfort, forgotten of his fears. Instead of allowing his hesitance to hinder his affections, he wrapped himself up into his Master’s warm side like a cat, and slept for all the world as if he had nothing to fear ever again.

With his task complete, Steve settled into the fluffy pillows beneath them, gripping his Consort like a cocoon of strength and protection. He pressed gentle kisses to his brow and nose, grazing over the smooth silk of his collar, and lingering for a moment as he worshiped his sleeping beauty wrapped up in his grip never to be let go again. “I love you, Bucky,” he whispered, closing his eyes to sleep the night away with his beautiful lover in his arms.

If one were to ask him the next morning, Steve wouldn’t admit it but he slept better than he ever had, that night. Even better than the day he’d received his One. And with good reason.

As Steve had dozed off to sleep the cool night away with his lover, he heard the gentle, almost silent reply that made his world brighter than the sun itself. If Steve had never slept with a smile before in his life, that night, he most certainly did.

“I love you, too, Master…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if I can update this bad boy in less time it took me the last time. Fingers crossed my little smut-lovers!
> 
> Until next time!!!


	7. Collared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Buchanan share a heart to heart about their feelings and their relationship. Steve and Tony discuss the boy's living conditions and the possibility of Steve purchasing his One collar for Buchanan. Buchanan learns exactly how much his Master loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of what has happened on this day with the fiasco that is Nick Spencer's Hydra!Steve, I present to you the next chapter of this story as my personal rebuttal to that man's idiocy. I will be totally honest, for awhile today I was seriously considering giving up on writing fanfiction because of how hard this hit myself and many of my friends. And now that I see how poorly the rest of the populous is taking it, I can see we're not alone in our feelings.
> 
> But i was considering quitting writing fanfiction. I felt personally betrayed by the writer's decision to do what they did with Steve, and I could only imagine the pain others were going through. Steve Rogers means so much to us and to have a writer take such a beloved character and butcher it like this is a wound that will never go away. I felt like if I were going to continue writing, then I would be doing nothing more than fueling the idiocy by providing more media attention to a damaged and possibly irrevocably retconned character and continue to give fuel to Nick Spencer's cruelty.
> 
> Then I was talked to by several friends and realized that me writing fanfiction does not fuel that man's work. It only offers up the solace that people like us need in times like this. It's a sanctuary from the writer's poor decision and gives us the outlet we need in order to continue enjoying Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America AS HE SHOULD BE.
> 
> So with that, I will continue to write my stories as a personal "Fuck you" to Marvel and the writers/editors there. 
> 
> For this chapter, although it may be an AU version of Steve Rogers, here we see him as he really is: personable, kind hearted and strongly rooted in his beliefs and morals. A kind man that loves unconditionally and stands for what's right in this world. A kind man that loves his family and his lover in only the way the true Steve Rogers can really love. Yes there is a sex scene in this story. Yes, the sex scene is a BDSM scene. But i believe it doesnt take away from who Steve Rogers truly is: a man that gives those he loves exactly what they need and want, and protects them with his very life, all while loving them to the very core of his heart. 
> 
> Thank you for letting me vent. Please enjoy this new chapter of Collars of Ardor. I will be returning to my other stories very shortly now.

The sun was high in the East when Steve finally opened his eyes; a faint yawn caught him off-guard as he blinked up at the sunlight streaming into his bedroom through the velvet curtain. Strangely enough, Steve found himself balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. He blinked in confusion as he looked down to the cold, wooden floor just a few scant feet away from him and pondered how he’d gotten into this position. Behind him, the bed felt incredibly warm, and he shifted, only to feel that warmth increasing until his bare back met naked skin. Instantly, Steve broke through the haze of morning wakening and a smile crossed his lips as he turned over to pull his beloved Pet into his arms.

Only, when he did turn over, Steve was met with the most precious sight he’d ever laid eyes on. Next to him, Buchanan had fallen fast asleep after their evening together, and had turned over to his belly in his sleep. Somehow, during the night, Buchanan had wiggled his way out of Steve’s arms and taken root in the very center of the bed, taking up the enormity of the bed by himself, and wrapped himself around Steve's pillow. Even now, he slept on, his cheek pressed into the pillow beneath him and his lips parted. Steve felt his heart swelling at the sight of Buchanan’s hard slumber.

“Isn’t that the most precious thing,” Steve chuckled quietly, watching Buchanan sleep on. He leaned in, brushing his fingers through the boy’s hair for a moment before he let his fingers dance down his spine. As he did, he watched Buchanan squirm in his sleep, burying his face further into the pillow and whimpering at being disturbed. Steve stifled a laugh at the little, kitten-like display of displeasure at his touch, and he tickled his fingers up his Pet’s back again. He bit his lip when Buchanan squirmed a little harder at the touch, inhaling sharply as he tried not to laugh out loud. Oh this was too much fun.

Taking a few moments to tease his Pet in his sleep, Steve tickled and caressed his back, watching as Buchanan would squirm away from his touch; every time, he drew close to rousing from slumber, but never quite fully woke up. Unable to contain his laughter anymore, Steve let his fingers brush down his back, push under the cover of blankets sitting just above Buchanan’s buttocks. He let his palm brush over the smooth, firm rounds of his backside for a moment. He grinned wickedly down at his Pet, gripped a small section of skin on his right cheek between his finger and thumb, and pinched sharply.

With a yelp, Buchanan woke suddenly, swatting at his ass for a moment as he scrambled to his knees in wild confusion. He turned his gaze on Steve, blinking at him in total bewilderment before he spoke up. “M-Master… what happen?” he asked, his voice groggy and broken.

Bless him, he looked too precious. Steve stifled a pleased sound at the messy state of Buchanan’s hair and the red lines in his cheek where the pillow had dug into his flesh. He pressed a kiss to Buchanan’s lips, pulling him close, and allowed Buchanan to curl up in his lap on the bed. “Aye, my little _Zvezda_. I was the one that woke you in such a fashion,” he said, giving him a cheeky smile as he brushed his thumb over one particularly large red line in his cheek.

Buchanan stared up at him, looking scandalized at that revelation. He reached behind himself and rubbed the spot that Steve had pinched, pouting openly at his Master. “Why do such a thing to me?!” Buchanan asked, whining openly up at him.

Steve grinned down at Buchanan, leaning in a predatory gesture as he wrapped his fingers around his waist. “It’s punishment, my love.”

“Punishment? What did I do?” Buchanan asked, his eyes widening slightly as he stared up at him.

“Punishment for nearly sending me sprawling to the floor. I was not aware that this bed belonged to you alone.”

Buchanan swallowed visibly, clearly shaken by the idea that he might have actually offended his Master. “I-I didn’t mean to, Master. I swear to it,” he said, his voice timid as he looked down at his lap. “What is it that I have done to displease you?”

Steve chuckled; it was precious, seeing how eagerly Buchanan wanted to please him, and he reached up, cupping Buchanan’s jaw in his fingers as he tilted his head up to meet his gaze. “When I awoke, I found myself balancing carefully on the edge of the bed. When I turned over, you had occupied my side of the bed almost entirely. I was aware that you wish to be with me at all times, but I see that it is in sleep as well as waking. For that, I think I have a just consequence for such an infraction.”

Buchanan nodded, his lower lip trembling slightly as he looked up at him. “Yes, Master. Whatever you wish.”

Steve looked down at him, feeling his heart cracking slightly in his chest. He very nearly took back the promise of punishment; it was clear that Buchanan truly looked sorry for his unintentional mistake. However, he had already voiced his intent on “punishing” Buchanan. There was no taking it back now, especially if he wished to maintain his position as Dominant. Pulling his hand away from his jaw, Steve sat up fully and gripped Buchanan’s hips in his fingers. Twisting to face him, Steve leveled him with a stern look before his eyes darted down to his waist again. All at once, his stern expression turned into a dangerous smile and his hands shot out, fingers raking over Buchanan’s sides as he tickled and feathered them over the expanse of his ribs and sides.

Well, perhaps it may not have been punishment, per se, but he was certain Buchanan wouldn’t mind a bit of roughhousing instead.

Instantly, Buchanan shrieked at the attack, his eyes blowing wide as he tried his best to dart away from Steve. Wrenching free from his grip, Buchanan scrambled to his feet, his shrieks melting into laughter as he tried to escape Steve’s onslaught, unashamedly naked as he tried to dart across the room. “Oh _no_! Not that, not that!” Buchanan cackled, wrapping his arms around his waist protectively.

“Not so fast!” Steve called, leaping off of the bed after Buchanan. Chasing him around the room, Steve couldn’t help the thrilling sensation of being truly alive as he played with his Pet, the two of them naked and uninhibited by the outside world. After a few rotations of dodging and leaping furniture, Steve caught up with his Pet and threw his arms around his waist. He hoisted him up into the air and threw him over his shoulder, cupping his backside firmly. “Looks like you’ve been caught, love!”

“N-No! No don’t!” Buchanan giggled, swatting at Steve’s arms as he was carried back to the bed. With a shout, Buchanan was tossed to the bedding, where he bounced on the mattress before scrambling up to attempt to flee his Master’s grip again. He was a thing of beauty, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes shining brightly as he laughed loudly, still affected by the sensation of being tickled.

Steve wasn’t having any of that. Grinning down at him, Steve threw his leg over Buchanan’s lap and pinned him to the bedding. It shouldn’t have been fair, a 30 year old man tormenting his boy like this; but the laughter and the twinkle in his eyes only spurred Steve on as he leaned down, wiggling his fingers over his Pet’s ribs incessantly.

Buchanan wailed, laughing and hiccupping as he tried to curl in on himself and shield his ribs from Steve. His cheeks were now dark red from laughter and he gasped for breath, squirming beneath his weight in a vain attempt to escape. “M-Master! P-please I can’t-! Oh _pomogi mne!!”_

“Never! Say you’re sorry for confiscating my pillow!” Steve laughed. He switched tactics then, curling his fingers into claws as he began to gently scrub them over Buchanan’s bare hip bones, just at the juncture of his thighs. He didn’t think it was possible to make his boy laugh any harder, but the new onslaught brought on a wave of squeals so loud, he was sure the rest of the house had woken.

“I-I’m sorry! I will not to-! Do that again!” Buchanan wheezed, flopping uselessly beneath Steve as he pawed at his hands, trying to get him to stop. “Oh help! _Help!_ ”

Steve chuckled, finally relenting his attack. He dropped his hands to his thighs, looking down at his Pet as he continued to straddle his legs. “See that you don’t. I’m quite sure I am pillow enough for you,” he said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest as he beamed down at him.

“Y-yes!” Buchanan huffed; he slumped back against the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he finally calmed himself again. “I am so tired now.”

Steve chuckled, clambering from his lap to lay down. With a strong grip, he wrapped his arm around his lover’s shoulders and tugged him close, letting his exhausted boy collapse onto his chest. Somehow, during the attack, Steve had managed to kick the blankets all the way down to the foot of the bed. Dragging the bedding up, he draped it warmly over his lover, and wrapped his arms around his torso, cradling him close to his chest happily. “No sleeping now. I’m afraid you might kick me right to the floor, _Zvezda_.”

“Never! I will try to not do such thing again,” Buchanan breathed, looking up at him earnestly. “I did not know I had done this to you, Master and I am sorry.” Leaning up, Buchanan, pressed his lips to Steve’s collarbone, lingering for a moment as he peppered gentle touches into the warm skin there. “I have never done such play before…”

Steve paused, looking down at his Pet. “You have never played before? No bout of rough housing or sport?”

“Never.” Buchanan confirmed, looking up at him. He remained silent for a moment, his cheeks filling in with a blush. “Growing up as Consort, activities such as this was not entertained. We were raised inside, taught our lessons, our code, and proper ways to tend to Masters. But no play. At least not in this manner.”

Steve listened, biting his lip as he watched his Pet. “That is such a shame. I mean, surely they must have allowed you the luxury of free time, yes? It was not all work growing up was it?”

“Oh yes, they gave us necessary alone time. But- but, we were given books, lessons, anything to become better Pets.”

“But you have no idea what it is you enjoy, just for yourself…” Steve trailed off. He watched the boy in his arms with disappointment. “You spent your youth preparing for a Master, and never had a chance to be a child?”

Buchanan flinched a little; he hunkered down onto Steve’s chest, hiding a small whimper as he looked up at him. “I am sorry, I did not mean to bring up this. I am no unhappy with my childhood! They took wonderful care of me!”

“Hey, hey,” Steve placated. He brushed his hand down Buchanan’s spine for a moment, relaxing the tense muscles beneath his fingertips. “I didn’t say you weren’t well taken care of. I fully agree that you were. I’m just-” Steve paused. He decided to try another approach. “What is it that you wish you could have experienced in your childhood? Games or entertainment, something that makes you happy. Can you think of anything?”

Buchanan went silent. He didn’t lift his head from Steve’s chest for a moment, taking the chance to listen to his heartbeat. Steve remained silent, patiently watching his boy ponder his question. After a time, Buchanan inhaled, and raised his head from its resting place.

“I have seen you play games with Sam. I always watched chess, growing up, but I never learned how to play. I have always wish to play, but none of other Pets growing up seemed interested in learning. At least, not where I come from.”

“Mhm,” Steve nodded. “So you are intrigued by games of wits. It is most certainly something we can work with, love. What else? Do you find yourself interested in any outdoor activities as well?  Have you been horseback riding?”

“No, but I would most love to learn that!” Buchanan said, sounding eager. He met Steve’s gaze head on and beamed at him. “I very much would love to learn!”

Steve laughed, taking mental note of that. “Very well then! Liberty is a good mare. She would be a fine horse to teach you on, I believe. And I would be there every step of the way to help you learn, Bucky. I swear to you.”

Buchanan gazed at his Master, his eyes shining with delight. He wasted no time as he threw his arms around Steve’s neck, clinging to him tightly as he pressed happy little kisses into his Master’s cheek. “Thank you, Master! Thank you, so much!” He exclaimed, arms tightening around him.

Steve chuckled in return, allowing the boy to cling to him for a moment. After a time, he pried the youth off of his neck enough to breathe and met his gaze again. “My good boy. I haven’t but to ask, and you are so honest with me. However, there are more important questions I have to ask of you, _Zvezda_. And you must promise to be absolutely truthful with me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” Buchanan said. He obediently sat up, lacing his legs around the older man’s waist as he beamed up at him. “What is it you wish to ask of me?”

This subject, Steve knew, was wary territory. From what they had spoken of this morning, Steve knew that Buchanan had been trained well. Almost too well, in fact. When it came to pleasing a Master, Buchanan was a seasoned professional. But if one were to ask him what it is the boy liked for _himself_ , he was simply dumbfounded by the notion. The same mentality surely held true for the boy’s sexuality as well. In a way, Steve was almost afraid to ask.

But it had to be done. For his boy’s safety and happiness, it had to be done.

“Now, Buchanan. Think very carefully for me, love. In the same manner I have asked you for your recreational entertainment, I want you to really consider this: what would make you most happy in bed? What is it that you wish to explore when you and I play together? Take your time to think on your answer, _Zvezda_. Do not rush.”

Buchanan listened. His eyes lit up almost instantly and he sat up to regard Steve with an eager smile. “This is easy question to answer! I enjoy anything you give to me, Master. Anything you wish to do, I love as well.” Buchanan grinned, stifling a giggle as he reached out to brush his fingers over Steve’s bearded jaw. “Is such silly question, Master…”

Steve listened, feeling his stomach tighten at his boy’s answer. Just as he expected. But he knew that that was not the proper response. Reaching up, Steve wrapped his fingers around Buchanan’s and leveled him with a stern look. “That is not the answer, Buchanan. I refuse to accept that response. What if I were to enjoy something in bed that you did not like? You would honestly allow me to do such a thing to you, simply because you think that is what would make me happy? There is such a thing as causing physical pain or humiliation in the midst of play, love. What if you do not enjoy such a behavior from me?”

Buchanan didn’t speak. Instead, he met Steve’s gaze for a moment, his lower lip trapped between his teeth for a moment. He tore his gaze away from Steve’s, staring down at his chest. “I-I… I don’t know. I know you will not hurt me, Master. Why should I have fear of you hurting me when we play?”

“That’s not the point, Bucky,” Steve soothed. He sat up fully, reaching over and tilting the boy’s head up to meet his gaze. “You know this as well as I do, love. Pain during play is often quite enjoyable, but not everyone finds it appealing. One half of the party might enjoy it, while the other did not. Do you think that’s fair to force the unhappy partner to endure something, simply for the gain of the other? We are in a relationship, my love. And a relationship requires compromise. That is why I want you to tell me what it is you enjoy and do not enjoy, that way I know precisely what to do to please you the most. I am your Master, not your punisher, _Zvezda_. Do understand this.”

Buchanan nodded. He lowered his gaze to his master’s smooth chest again before he inhaled, slow and deliberate. After a beat, he met Steve’s gaze again, looking a little more emboldened by the moment. “The things I enjoy are… I-I liked it when you tied my hands back, Master. In the garden? When you had such control over me. I never felt so happy. And when we played against the mirror… your hands were rough, but I knew they were love. I enjoyed watching you, feeling you bending me. Using me however you wanted. I knew you were not hurting me. But giving you such control and you caring for me, exactly how you knew I needed it.”

Buchanan’s voice grew more confident as he continued. A smile lit his lips as he beamed at his Master happily. “I love our gentle play, but when you spank me, or when you made me kneel and used my cheek to pleasure yourself- I was excited! I love it. I knew I was giving you what you wanted, and you were giving me the same. I am pleased to be submissive, and take your control happily. You take such good care of me…”

Steve’s heart fluttered in his chest as he listened to his Pet’s praise. He felt the corner of his eye stinging with delight and he cleared his throat to speak. “What else, love? What is it you wish I would do with you? Anything you want, my star.”

“When you held me down, I closed eyes. I liked the dark… made me feel much safer in your arms.” Buchanan shivered at the thought and curled up into Steve’s chest. “I wish sometimes not to see at all when we play. And-” Buchanan paused. He lowered his gaze and closed his eyes. “I like pain… it makes me feel good to feel stinging or heat. When you are not with me, I-” he stopped and swallowed. “The other night, I touched a candle, and let the wax run down my hand. I even let drops touch my chest.” Buchanan explained, circling a finger around his left nipple for a moment. “It felt wonderful. Comforting and so delicious…”

Steve chuckled. He ran his fingers over the back of Buchanan’s neck for a second, teasing the boy into a shiver. “Well, you should not play with candles without me, darling. But, if you like to play with wax and you want me to do the same, I will happily do so. We will just do it when it is safe, yes?”

Buchanan nodded, shivering in delight at the notion, “Yes, Master…”

“Good. Now, what is it that you do not like, love? If we are to establish these rules between us, I want to know what it is you do not wish me to do to you. Again, be very honest with me. I cannot be a good Master to you if I do not know what it is you dislike.”

Buchanan didn’t so much as breathe. It seemed, quite suddenly, that he feared giving his answer to Steve, as he shrank back just a bit from his touch. Still, Steve remained patient, simply brushing the dark strands from Buchanan’s forehead. He let his gaze linger over the boy’s round face for a moment, taking in the faint stubble forming on his jaw from lack of grooming. The boy would grow to be a stunningly handsome man someday, Steve was sure of it. He would do everything in his power to ensure that would happen.

“The things I do not like…” Sighing, he wrapped his arms around his torso and shivered. “Is not many things, but- but I do not like sitting in chairs. I do not like feeling on display in front of so many people. I only want to be yours.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “And that you are. You are mine alone, love. But there are times when chairs may be required. Are you comfortable enough with them to remain polite in certain company? I assure you, when we are home, you may use your cushions as often as you like.” When Buchanan nodded in agreement, Steve beamed at him. “Go on. Continue.”

“I love my collar,” Buchanan added. He reached up and brushed the little silk thread around his throat lovingly. “But I do not wish to wear leash. Not in public and not in bed. I want to be tied to bed by hands and feet. Not by neck. Also, I do not like it when my lover is silent. I wish to hear your voice, your praises. Silence, I fear, means I am no good lover. I want you to talk to me when we make love. The silence scares me.”

Steve nodded. He reached up and cupped Buchanan’s cheeks in his palms before pressing little kisses to the teen’s brow. “And?”

Buchanan shuddered, though this time the gesture was not of comfort. “A-and… and please do not make me take off my clothes in front of anyone. No friends, no colleagues. Not even Miss Peggy. I only want you to see me with no clothing. Please?” Buchanan twisted his fingers together, staring at the far wall with fear. “I do not want anyone to see my body. It is only for you! Don’t make me, please!”

Steve listened, his heart cracking in twain all over again. Did this have something to do with his previous Master? Did his past involve a previous owner forcing Buchanan to have sex in front of people? Suddenly, Steve feared the worst: perhaps a previous master had done the unspeakable and allowed others to defile his own Pet. Maybe that was why Buchanan had had such a difficult time learning to trust again.

He fought back the swell of anger at those words. The last thing he needed was to frighten his Pet further by confusing him with an outburst. Instead, Steve remained calm as he watched his Pet carefully. He brushed the strands of hair from his forehead and urged him to meet his gaze. “Buchanan. Listen to me, my love. That will _never_ happen, and you have my absolute word on that.”

Buchanan sniffed and met Steve’s gaze. His blue eyes were tinged with red as he met his Master’s unwavering glance. He worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before venturing into the topic a bit more. “You- you are certain of this?”

Steve chuckled. He brushed his thumb over Buchanan’s cheek, chasing away the faint blush on his pale skin. “I am most certain of this, _Zvezda_. What did I tell you in the garden? What have I told you all this time? You are my Pet. My lover. My boy. I love only you and damn those that dare try to stand between us. You are my submissive and I will make certain that it remains that way.  No one will lay a finger on you without due reason, and your bare skin is mine to enjoy. No one else’s.”

Huffing a small sigh, Steve wrapped his arms around Buchanan’s shoulders. He tugged the teen into his lap, feeling those long legs wrap around his waist as he held him close. Naked or not, the embrace was too intimate to ruin, though he secretly relished the feeling of his boy’s half-interested prick pressed up against his stomach. Chuckling to himself, Steve leaned back against the headboard, his fingers dancing up smooth skin as he held the teen in his lap. “You are the most precious gift I have ever had the pleasure of possessing in my life. Why would I ever dare to risk the sanctity of that by sharing you with anyone?”

Buchanan smiled, though the expression was meek at best. He hovered over Steve’s front, his palms pressed into his shoulders as he smiled down at him from his perch. “I do not know why.”

“Neither do I,” Steve smiled, brushing his fingertips over his Pet’s chest. His nail caught the edge of a nipple, and he chuckled at the little gasp that left his lover “Now. Let this be the last time we discuss this. No more, understood? There is no need to continue dwelling on these insecurities. I say I love you and adore you. You will remember that.”

“Yes, Master.” Buchanan sighed, dreamily.

Steve’s eyes softened. He leaned up, pressing his lips to his Pet’s nose, lingering for a moment. “My good little star…”

“Your little star, who loves you,” Buchanan whispered. He didn’t hesitate to return the tiny kiss, pressing his full lips to Steve’s nose in return. _“Moy vladelets…”_

Steve shivered, a delighted little gesture that rocked his figure. His fingers tightened around Buchanan’s waist for a moment, pulling him impossibly closer to himself. Damn the day ahead of them and damn any sort of responsibilities he had. If he could spend the rest of his life in bed with his One, he would happily relinquish all the money in the world to be with his beloved as long as he wanted. “Yes, Bucky. Forever, my One…”

* * *

Around him, the murmur of talk echoed across the ornate, mahogany walls in a quiet chorus. The ceilings, vaulted above him, caught the mutterings and reflected them back down, surrounding Steve in a comforting drone of happy chatter and merrymaking. He smiled to himself as he paced the grand foyer, waiting patiently for someone to fetch him. As he waited, he cast a glance through the heavily draped doorway into the thick of the club, where he saw men lounging about in leather armchairs as they spoke to one another. Wait Staff bustled about, carrying trays of tea, liquor and other little treats for their honored patrons, always polite as they bowed to their prolific guests.

Even in his best suit, Steve felt slightly underdressed compared to the rest of the patrons in this club. He didn’t, per se, belong to this establishment, hence his need to wait to be summoned. However, he did have an appointment that day, and he had arrived precisely on time, just as he promised. After all, if he was to make an impression with the far reaching upper class of this club, he had best make good on his word.

Just as he had turned to examine an expensive looking vase by the door, the click of heels on marble caught his attention. He looked up to see a tall, thin man with a mousy smile and a pair of shining, bright eyes smiling at him from the doorway. He wore a similar outfit to the wait staff, though Steve knew this particular man was more than he seemed. He was, after all, the personal butler of his host that day. “Captain Rogers, your host awaits you,” the man said, sweeping his arm to the doorway to allow Steve entrance.

Steve chuckled, plucking his top hat from his head. He held it close as he nodded to the butler. “Thank you, Jarvis. I do hope I was not tardy for my meeting. “

“Of course not, sir. Impeccable attendance, as always,” Jarvis chuckled. He walked with Steve towards a private room near the back of the club, opening the door with a white-gloved grip. “If you should require anything, simply ask.”

“Thank you Jarvis,” Steve repeated, before stepping inside. As he did, he shrugged out of his coat and draped the cloth over his elbow. Across the room, Tony sat in his prized chair, legs crossed. From the corner of his mouth, a pipe hung precariously, billowing aromatic smoke into the room as he read over the newspaper in his hands carefully. “Tony, it seems one of us has been thoroughly prepared for this meeting,” Steve chuckled. He set his coat and top hat down on a table before crossing the room and taking a seat next to him.

Tony snorted, shaking his head without looking away from the paper. “It seems so, though I have been keeping my due diligence by remaining in the know of these times. Unlike _some_ people,” Tony quipped. He folded the paper up and slapped the back of his hand over the paper with a disappointed look. “Three abductions this week! Hasn’t Scotland Yard gotten their dirty little fingers on this case yet?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Steve said, feeling a little silly. He hadn’t been keeping up on the news as of late. He’d been far too preoccupied with entertaining his Pet to even leave their bedroom much these days.

“Consorts, Steven, do try to keep up,” Tony sniffed. “It appears that the black market has grown exponentially over these past few weeks. Consorts have been threatened quite often this summer it seems. From the look of it, three have gone missing directly from the Union hall in Woolwich this week alone! It seems Masters are just not taking care to watch their own.”

Tony chuckled, plucking his pipe from his lips to brandish the stem at Steve carefully. “I’ve taken great care in ensuring that Pepper has not left the house until the Yard has finally gotten a handle on this situation. Needless to say, she’s not amused with me in the slightest, but if it ensures her safety, I can suffer her scorn for a few more days.”

“Is that why you called a meeting with me, Tony?” Steve asked. He waved his hand in front of his face when the smoke from Tony’s pipe caught his nose and he stifled a small cough from the smell.

“No of course not! I don’t make a habit of bearing ill news to anyone on purpose. It just happens to occur at the most inopportune moments.” Tony chuckled and leaned back in his seat. “I called you here to check up on you and your little boy. Dare I say, I haven’t seen you in quite some time? Not since the auction. Has the boy broken your back yet? He appears to be a ferocious little minx. For what I paid, I can only imagine he has certainly not left you wanting.”

Steve relaxed, feeling his cheeks flushing. He cleared his throat at that moment, buying himself some time to answer. “I can admit that he has kept me busy over these past weeks, yes. Though whatever you believe his usefulness has limited itself to, I can assure that you are incorrect. He is more than just a Pet to me. He is everything, and the price you paid is nowhere near his true worth in this world.”

“He waxes poetic!” Tony said, waving his hand at him. “Though I can say I am truly blessed you don’t feel the need to share the gory details of your new promiscuity. I can simply imagine it now. The boy has kept you a prisoner to your bed for this many weeks. Am I wrong?”

Steve laughed, leaning back in his seat to regard his friend carefully. “You would not be wrong, my friend. He has definitely taken a strong hold of my heart. But I won’t go into details. I should not have to feed you any inspiration you could pass onto your friend, Mr. Browning. My love life can remain happily outside his prose, thank you.”

“Alas, Steven, Robert would have no interest in your sex life. He’s an educated man that would be far more interested in the sexual practices of a Master more experienced than yourself. I’m sure your encounters have been fruitful to you, but to the trained Dominant, your skill must be very lacking.”

Steve scoffed, giving his friend an affronted look at his mocking. “What friend!” he huffed, listening to Tony laugh at his own joke. “You are a cruel man, Anthony.”

“A cruel man who is offering you the best of his father’s liquor reserves,” Tony simpered. He looked up when Jarvis entered the room again, holding a tray in his hands. He gestured to the butler to step forward and plucked the two glasses of brandy from the tray with a nod. “Thank you Jarvis. Fetch the bottle would you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said, smiling at him before departing the room once again.

Tony smiled, swirling his brandy for a moment before taking a sip. He passed the second glass over to Steve and winked at him. “Aged 6 years, old man. Do try to enjoy it.”

Steve chuckled and took a sip. The earthy, mellow flavor instantly caught his attention and he made a contented sound. “Delicious brew. Thank you, Tony. Now, I’m glad you called me this time. I actually wanted to speak to you about repayment for Buchanan.”

“Repayment?” Tony asked. He looked over at Steve, raising a brow at him in confusion. “Don’t tell me, the Union is taking the boy back. I say, did you forget to deliver your contract to them after the auction?!”

“What? Oh no!” Steve exclaimed. He held his hand up to him and frowned. “I did not do such a thing. I returned that contract to Natalia, signed and sealed, straight away that very week. Why on earth would the Union take him back?”

“Oh heavens,” Tony sighed, slumping back into his chair in exhaustion. “No, they would have no reason to retrieve the boy from your possession unless that contract never returned to them. If you delivered the contract in due time, then there is no need to worry. Though I can’t for the life of me understand why you would want to pay me back for his purchase.”

“But- you’re not expecting payment back?” Steve balked. He felt his face paling at that realization and he choked. “50,000 pounds, Tony! That is a fortune! No one is that generous!”

“ _I_ am that generous, and thank you for discrediting my good heart, Steve,” Tony sniffed, looking highly offended by the notion.

Steve was flabbergasted. Staring at Tony, he struggled to find words at his friend’s admittance. After a long moment, Steve cleared his throat, looking down at the floor as he took a drink to steady his nerves. “I didn’t mean to imply that you in particular are not generous, Tony. I do apologize for my words. I just-... I just don’t understand why.”

“Why what? Why I so willingly paid such a high price for a Pet that doesn’t belong to me?” Steve nodded mutely. At that, Tony chuckled, shaking his head at Steve before glancing at the window. For a long moment he didn’t answer him, his gaze locked on the high panes of glass. When it seemed that he would not reveal his reasoning at all, Tony sat up and settled his glass on the table.

With his hands free, he turned and faced Steve, his eyes soft and his fingers steepled under his chin as he watched him. “Consider it my good deed in this life. You and I may not be the best of friends, Steven, but I do enjoy your company quite a lot. You are smart, charming and shockingly witty for an American soldier.” He smirked at Steve, pausing to let his faint insult take effect. “But, most of all, you were in pain. In pain that you had not found your One, and I couldn’t watch you mope about London anymore with no consort on your elbow.”

“What a noble heart you have,” Steve sighed. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at Tony’s explanation; after all, no matter the sting of his teasing, his intentions had come from a good place. It wasn’t often that Tony found it in his heart to be that charitable to anyone.

“The point being, I couldn’t stand seeing you so miserable anymore. No one could. No matter how hard you tried to hide your pain from others, it was becoming increasingly more apparent that the lack of a Pet was weighing on your heart. If I could spend a small fortune to ensure that you don’t grow old and embittered for everyone’s sake including your own, then it was a small fortune well spent.”

When Tony finished his explanation, Steve found himself left in silence, touched by his companion’s words. Steve had found his happiness again, all thanks to one moment in life. He really had much to owe his friend. And if he would not accept payment in return, then he would offer him whatever he could to ensure his debt was complete. “Tony, I really don’t know what to say…”

“How about a simple thank you. That would suffice for me,” Tony said. Though as he spoke, his smile turned sly for a moment and he chuckled. “And perhaps admitting that my club is not some nancy parlor for old dogs would do well to repay your debt to me.”

“Never!” Steve chuckled. He glanced up at the high walls, admiring their book-lined facade for a moment. “Though I can admit it truly is a grand place. You really outdid yourself. I now can say I am good friends with the owner of England’s most notable gentlemen’s club. Congratulations.”

“What can I say? I strive for the best,” Tony mused. His smile never left him as he finally rose from his seat. “Have you business to tend to this afternoon, Steve? I do say a good round of cards is in order and there’s plenty more where that drink came from. We’ll say it’s my free pass to you if you wish to stay for the day.”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll pass,” Steve replied. He too, rose from his seat and fetched his coat from the table he’d lain it across. “Peggy and I have a reservation at the Cafe Royal this evening. Buchanan is very excited for the opportunity to go out this evening. He’s been looking forward to it for two days.”

“How sweet of the boy!” Tony exclaimed. “Well, do pass my regards to your lovely wife and your One for me. Enjoy your evening out. And for God’s sake, buy the boy his One collar!”

“How do you know I have not already done so?” Steve asked. He dropped his top hat to the crown of his head, smirking down at his friend as he shrugged into his coat. “How could you possibly know if I have or have not purchased his collar yet? I haven’t seen you in days!”

“Nonsense! It’s apparent you are proud of this boy. If you had purchased his One collar you would be parading that lad about London in his finest glory, showing off the collar to everyone.” Tony chuckled, gesturing to the door. “Get out of my club, Captain, and go buy his collar. There’s an emporium just down the road with the finest pieces available. Spare no expense and collar your Pet!”

Steve fought the blush that crept up his cheeks, though his smile was genuine. He took Tony’s advice to heart and bowed to him in return. “Thank you, Tony. I think I shall do that straight away.” With that, Steve followed Jarvis from the room and departed the club at long last. The sun had risen high in the skies, casting a warm glow about the city that spoke of a glorious day ahead. Steve took the moment to relish the warm rays of sunlight before setting off on his quest.

He would never admit it aloud, but he was grateful to Tony’s insistence. He’d been meaning to purchase Buchanan’s collar lately; however, with his insistence to transition the teen into his home, he’d completely forgotten to do so. Logically, Steve knew he could get in trouble with the Union if they found out nearly a month later, he still hadn’t purchased the proper collar. Well, that would be remedied that very afternoon. And that night, after he had treated Buchanan to a lovely night out, he would finish off their day with the most unforgettable present imaginable.

After all, his One would never deserve anything less.

* * *

The soft glow of candles and lamps illuminated the golden hued parlor around them in a comforting shine. The soft tones of conversation reverberated off the mirrored walls, and above, the paneled ceiling with its gold trim, cast a comforting, regal aura about the patrons inside. The room was filled with tables, silken tablecloths and high backed chairs, and every seat was occupied by many well-to-do citizens of London. At their sides, Consorts were seated happily, either in chairs of their own, or cushions on the floor as the couples ate and drank to their heart’s content on that warm summer evening.

Steve glanced about the room with a smile, before he nodded to his wife. His hand strayed down to his side to brush through dark hair with a comforting touch. Buchanan’s head was laid quietly on his thigh as he calmly digested his meal with a satisfied little smile on his full lips. In front of him, a small tray had been propped up on the floor, matching several others dotted across the dining parlor that evening. It seemed that Buchanan had been one of many Consorts that had decided feasting on the cushion had been preferable than taking a seat at the table.

Sighing happily, Steve turned and glanced down at his Pet, brushing the dark strands from his forehead to catch his attention. “Bucky, how do you feel love?”

“Hmmmm…” Buchanan sighed dreamily. He shook his head for a moment before looking up at his Master to offer him a nod. “I feel wonderful. The food was very tasty. But now I am sleepy.”

Steve chuckled. He cupped Buchanan’s chin in his palm and leaned down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “No sleeping yet. We have to go home soon. And I’m certain you do not want to sleep before I have given you your present.”

“Present?” Buchanan asked, his eyes widening slightly. “What occasion is this that you give me present?”

From across the table, a giggle lifted. Steve and Buchanan both looked up to see Peggy smiling at the two of them, her fingers covering her painted lips. “Oh I do say, I second Steve’s word. You should stay awake a little while longer, Buchanan. Your Master showed me the gift he purchased for you and I do believe you are going to love it.”

Buchanan’s eyes widened even further and he looked up at his Master with excitement. “What is it?! What did you buy?” Kneeling on his cushion, Buchanan offered up a pitiful beg. “Don’t tease me so!”

Steve couldn’t contain his laughter. Leaning back in his seat, he ran his fingers along the boy’s jawline before pushing his fingers into the back of his hair to tug the dark strands. “Patience, _Zvezda_! Patience, or I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to give it to you.”

“I’m patient!” Buchanan insisted. He sat back on his heels and gave Steve a hopeful look, his hands folded in his lap. “I am patient. I swear to it.”

“Steven, don’t torment the boy!” Peggy chuckled. At her side, Angela snickered into her glass, watching the two of them from her perch and shooting her Mistress a humored glance. Shushing the girl, Peggy, rose from her seat and smoothed the lines of her dress out with a nod. “I do believe we are all finished here as it is. We had better get home so you can gift your Pet. I’m afraid he’ll have a fit if you keep teasing him like this.”

“Very well then,” Steve agreed. He too, rose from his seat and helped Buchanan from the cushion. With a careful hand, he wrapped the boy’s figure up in a thin jacket, before leaving their pay on the table for the wait staff. With that taken care of, their little caravan of four vacated the establishment and hailed a carriage to take them home. The entire ride, Buchanan sat practically in Steve’s lap, behaving his utmost best as he cuddled into his Master’s chest with eagerness.

Steve melted into his seat, pleased beyond belief by his boy’s behavior. He cast glances to his wife across the carriage, and the two of them shared secret smiles as they held their tired Pets close for the duration of their ride. By the time they had arrived home for the evening, the moon was high in the sky, casting their home in a silvery, cool glow. Steve exited the carriage first, and assisted his wife out with a gentle hand. With that, he leaned into the carriage and assisted Angela to her feet before doing the same for his own Pet. Almost instantly, Buchanan latched onto his side, pressing his cheek to his Master’s shoulder for a moment as he smiled happily up at him.

“Alright, alright, let’s go.” Steve murmured. He pressed a kiss to his Pet’s crown before brushing his fingers along his arm. “So eager for your gift, aren’t you?” When Buchanan offered him an affirmative nod, Steve tightened his arm around his thin shoulders with another kiss. “Then let’s be off. Peggy, have a good night, and pleasant dreams. I do hope dinner was to your liking.”

“Oh it was wonderful, Steve. I thank you for securing us a table for this evening. Have a pleasant evening. And uh-” Peggy paused, glancing up at her husband with a sly wink. “Do enjoy.”

Steve nodded in return, waving to his wife before he steered his Pet towards the house. Leading him inside, Steve guided him to the grand staircase and up to their floor. The entire trek, he could feel the excitement buzzing in Buchanan’s figure, and he fought the amused little smirk that threatened to break his composure. He couldn’t lose his calm now. This was a very important moment for his Pet. He had to approach this with all the pride and dignity he could.

“Bucky, calm yourself,” Steve said affectionately. He rubbed his shoulders again, and offered him a soothing look. “You’re liable to buzz right out of your skin at this rate.”

“I am sorry, Master.” Buchanan murmured. His shoulders slumped just a bit under his Master’s scrutiny and he offered him a sheepish glance in return. “I am just eager to see what it is you give to me.”

“No need to be sorry, love.” Steve paused, long enough to open their suites and allow his Pet to enter before himself. “But do be a good boy and sit down for me. On the bed if you would. I will be right back.”

Buchanan nodded enthusiastically and bounded for the bed. He jumped up onto the mattress and sat with his legs crossed, watching Steve with rapt interest from his vantage point on the bed.

“Slippers off!” Steve commanded, pointing at his tan slippers. Instantly, Buchanan kicked them off and let them fall next to the bed before crossing his legs again with a giggle. Steve sighed, hiding his amusement at the boy’s energy. “Do not move. Close your eyes, if you would.”

When he was certain that Buchanan had done what he asked, Steve turned for the wardrobe and withdrew his gift from inside. In his hands, he held an ornate, paper bag with gold print on the front. Sure enough, as Tony had told him, the emporium he told him of had been a terrific discovery. Toys and clothing of all kind had been draped about the shop, decorating the marbled insides with their promise of pleasant evenings to come between Master and Pet. And the quality of the gifts at his disposal had most certainly warranted the price tags they were adorned with.

After shopping his selection for a time and bagging the various toys and bindings he’d use for his lover’s pleasure, Steve found his true purpose for entering that shop. Near the back of the shop, Steve had discovered the collars Tony had told him of. There was a wide array that he could choose from, and every single one had been absolutely stunning to behold.  Each collar displayed on a velvet pedestal for Steve to peruse, had been so unbelievably beautiful, the Captain had absolutely no idea if he would ever be able to make a decision on one.

That is, until he’d spotted the very back collar on the display counter.

The first thing Steve noticed about it was its simplicity. While the other collars on display had been elaborately designed, with intricate swirls of metal and patterns sewn into their taffeta cloth, this collar was quiet and unassuming upon first look. In fact, it looked so simple, even the shop owner had deemed it unfit for the front row, and hid it in the back, where the display lighting could not capture its beauty.

Intrigued, Steve had picked up the collar and held it up to the light. The moment he had, however, he had been totally stunned by its presence. The collar was thin and delicate, silver and gemstone fastenings collected in a perfect circle that clasped at the back. The collar held a delicate sapphire in between each silver bracket, the stones deep blue and majestic. Finally, from the nape of the collar, a larger sapphire dangled in a striking pendant encircled in diamonds. From where it hung, Steve could imagine that pendant sitting perfectly in the hollow of Buchanan’s tanned throat, just above his delicate collarbones. The collar might have been small and unassuming amongst its more fashionable brothers and sisters, but to Steve it was absolute perfection.

This was his love’s One collar.

With his purchase in hand, Steve eagerly paid the high price for his One’s collar and toys, allowing the clerk to bag his items for him. The collar had been safely placed in its own velvet box, safely tucked away from the world outside and settled in a wrapping of tissue paper inside the bag. Steve had known then and there, that he could not hide this collar from his Pet for long. He would gift him this prized piece that very evening after dinner.

And at long last his time had come.

Smiling to himself, Steve settled his top hat on the shelf in his wardrobe before carefully picking up his bag again. Shrugging out of his suit coat, he allowed the garment to fall to the floor before he turned back to his Pet. Just as he suspected, Buchanan remained on the bed, his eyes still closed as he waited impatiently for Steve to reveal his gift to him.

“You’re such a good boy,” Steve murmured fondly. He crossed the room in an instant, standing before his Pet and held the bag behind his back. “You haven’t moved an inch, just like I told you. You may open your eyes now.”

“I am pleased to do so,” Buchanan muttered happily. He did squirm in his spot a bit, his eyes darting down to Steve’s torso, as if he could look straight through his stomach to the bag behind him. “I will forever do as you wish, Master.”

“And for that, I am proud of you,” Steve chuckled. “Now, what do you suppose is the present I have gotten you? Take your best guess, love.”

“I do not know!” Buchanan laughed. “But I am most interested to see what it is!”

Steve softened. He nodded down at his Pet before taking a seat next to him. With a careful touch, he brought one hand forward, holding the bag up to his Pet with a solemn nod. “Open it, then.”

Buchanan squealed happily, taking the bag from him. He immediately pulled it open and reached inside before withdrawing his first prize. In his fingers, Buchanan held up a pair of large leather cuffs, the two pieces held together by a thick chain link. The restraints were buckled closed and the leather was a deep brown, inlaid with the impression of delicate swirls in the material. Buchanan stared at the cuffs for a moment, his eyes as wide as saucers before he looked up at Steve in delight. “Master-”

“Keep going. There’s more,” Steve chuckled. He motioned for his Pet to continue, watching with delight as Buchanan carefully settled the cuffs down on the bed and dug in. This time, the boy withdrew several long silken cloths, and one blindfold from inside the bag. These were followed quickly by a small retractable bar with clasps on the end, feather toys, a paddle, special cubes of wax in various scents, and a large phallic rod in glass. The final piece that Buchanan withdrew from the bag was a small wrap, which looked very much like a horse’s bit with a clasp at the back comprised of an intricate buckle.

Silence fell between them for a long moment. After a time, Buchanan tore his gaze away from his gifts, and he offered his Master an ecstatic smile and a bright laugh. “These all-... for me?” Buchanan asked, breathlessly.

“Yes, my Pet. All for you. I don’t suppose you would like to try them out tonight, would you?” Steve asked. He reached out and brushed his knuckles along Buchanan’s jaw, smiling at him with hope.

Buchanan nodded, squeaking out a “yes!” in delight. He threw his arms around Steve’s neck and planted kisses into his bearded jaw. “Yes, yes, yes! Please! I would most love to!”

Steve smiled, allowing the boy to press his frantic kisses where he wished. After a moment, he pulled back, and cupped his Pet’s chin in his fingers. Carefully, he guided the boy closer and pressed their lips together, a soothing touch that calmed the Consort’s eagerness on the spot. After a moment, Steve withdrew and met the boy’s gaze with a twinkle in his eyes. “If that is what you wish, then you might want to wear this.” With his declaration, Steve withdrew his hand from behind his back. He held up the small velvet box to his Pet with a flourish, watching in delight as the boy tentatively reached out and plucked the box from his hands. “I do think it is rather appropriate for the occasion.”

Without uttering a sound, Buchanan stared down at the box in his grip, his fingers trembling slightly. Steve loved the way the boy looked, stunned and excited and uncertain all at once. He held his breath as his Pet carefully opened the box up, only to gasp aloud when he saw the collar inside.

“M-master… my-” Buchanan stopped, swallowing audibly as he looked up at his Master. “My collar. Is- is mine, yes?”

“Yes, Bucky. This is your collar,” Steve murmured. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Buchanan’s temple for a moment before he tilted his Pet’s chin up to gaze into his eyes. “Do you like it?”

Buchanan was speechless. For the longest moment, he could utter nothing at all, his eyes round in shock before he nodded vigorously. “It-! It’s beautiful!” he gasped. Throwing his arms around Steve’s neck, the youth clambered into his lap with a happy whine and threaded his legs around his waist. Sitting in Steve’s lap, Buchanan nuzzled into the side of his throat, peppering the smooth skin with happy kisses as he clung to him in delight. “Is the most beautiful collar I have ever seen. I can’t believe it is mine!”

Steve laughed, wrapping his arms around Buchanan’s waist. He held the boy close for a moment and allowed the youth to christen his flesh with kisses before drawing back. With a careful hand, he plucked Buchanan from his lap and set him on the bed before holding the collar up by its delicate chains. “It is indeed beautiful, but I think it will look even better when it is on you, my love. Turn around and remove your black collar.”

Eagerly accepting the command, Buchanan turned around, exposing his back to his Master. He reached up and plucked the black collar from his throat, holding it in his lap as he glanced back at Steve expectantly.

Steve didn’t move for a second. He took the moment’s peace to admire the swan-like arch of Buchanan’s throat. This was the first time he was seeing his throat untouched by anything in several long weeks, and he was surprised to find he did _not_ like the look of his skin so exposed. Buchanan belonged in the clutches of a collar; more specifically, _his_ collar. And now, with the jeweled chain in his fingers, the world would know that Buchanan was no one’s but his.

A swell of possessive jealousy formed in Steve’s chest as he let his eyes roam over the boy’s skin. He thought back to that morning and what his Pet had begged of him. He didn’t want anyone to look upon him like Steve did. And damn right, would Steve covet that desire to himself. His fingers itched dangerous as he reached out and finally threaded the collar around Buchanan’s throat. He watched in delight as his Pet jumped at the touch of cold metal against his warm skin, and he carefully clasped the tiny lock at the back of his neck into place. There. Now there would never again be any confusion as to who exactly this boy belonged to.

Turning Buchanan around on the bed, Steve pressed his palms to his shoulders and held him still. He glanced over his tiny figure, the lithe bones and supple skin untouched by age yet, and the shock of blue against olive flesh. He watched as Buchanan lifted a tentative hand and touched the gems around his throat, reveling in the feel of them against his skin. Stunning was the only word that described him; with his unruly hair that could never be tamed, his awed expression pulled into a soft “oh” at his pink lips, the faintest tremble in his figure as he came to the realization he was truly possessed…

Steve was overwhelmed; overwhelmed then and there with the desire to take and consume. Lust, previously unnoticed that evening, suddenly reared to life, coursing through his veins like fire and burning every inch of him alive. He licked his lips, doing nothing to fight off the wild, territorial desires in his bones. There was no need to. His Pet required dominance, just as he had insisted that very morning. His Pet had been properly collared, at last. He belonged to no one else, and Steve would make damn sure the entire world knew it.

Wasting no breath, Steve surged forward. He wrapped his fingers around Buchanan’s neck and yanked him into a kiss, a click of teeth and a surprised gasp ebbing into the room. Steve didn’t let up as he pressed on, suckling and nipping full lips at his disposal until he could feel heat growing in the dampened skin there. Without hesitation, his tongue darted forward, seeking entrance and pushing past any sort of resistance Buchanan offered up to him. It didn’t take long for the boy to respond in kind, his own fingers wrapping themselves into the hem of Steve’s shirt to cling for dear life.

After a long moment of nipping teeth and needy breaths, Steve pulled back, sucking hard on the boy’s lower lip until it popped from between his teeth sharply. He glanced down to see the flesh dark pink and speckled with red; he had drawn blood to the surface of his lips and swelled the tender skin with the intensity of that kiss. Steve smiled, his eyes flashing predatorily as he met Buchanan’s eyes with his own. Blue-grey was consumed by the black onyx of his pupils, his cheeks flushed a pretty hue as he stared up at his Master in want, waiting for his next order. He remained silent, dutifully so, trusting whatever Steve would tell him now. It was absolute perfection.

“Mine,” Steve growled. His fingers tightened, the palm of his hand cupping around his Pet’s throat. With a firm motion, he pushed the boy back onto the bed, pressing him into the mattress until he could feel the bite of the metal collar against his palm. Still, Buchanan didn’t move, only staring up at him with all the trust in the world as he swallowed thickly under the pressure encompassing his throat. “Mine. You say you want only me, then that is what you will get. You think I would ever dare allow another man to look at you again? I will prove you wrong.”

“Yes, Master!” Buchanan gasped. He nodded, quick and certain under his grip, and his own fingers threaded around Steve’s wrist. But instead of pushing him back, as he had anticipated, Buchanan held him close, his fingernails anchored in his skin for a moment as he held his Master close. “I believe you. I do!”

“I know you do, _Zvezda_. But to be sure,” Steve suddenly pulled his hand away from Buchanan’s throat and plucked up the blindfold he had purchased for him. He held it up to his Pet, watching in delight as the boy’s eyes widened impossibly further. “We’re going to have a lesson in trust.”

Standing up, Steve gestured to the side of the bed, snapping his fingers sharply. “Sit up.” Instantly, Buchanan did as he was told, sitting on the edge of the bed and gazing up at his Master in utter devotion. “Good boy. Remove your trousers and when you have, lay in the middle of the bed.”

Again, Buchanan complied quickly. He rose to his feet and shoved his linen pants to the floor, standing totally naked in front of Steve. Already, he was rock hard, his pretty cock standing at attention, though he didn’t give Steve enough time to admire him. Already, he was clambering onto the bed again, stretching out on his back to peer up at Steve with open desire. Without bidding, his fingers traced up his bare stomach, to the jut of his cock, where the boy’s nimble fingers wrapped around the girth of his prick to stroke the silky skin in open invitation.

That wouldn’t do at all. Frowning heavily, Steve snapped his fingers and pointed, looming over Buchanan in a dark shadow. “Did I say you could touch yourself?!” he demanded with fire in his eyes. He shook his head, watching as the boy’s hands snatched away from his groin and fisted into the blankets beneath him with a whimper. “Good. You do exactly as I tell you. No more, no less. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good,” Steve murmured. His shoulders relaxed and he stepped away from the side of the bed, still clutching the blindfold in his fingers. “I will be back in a few moments. But if I come back and find you have moved from that spot, we will not play. Am I clear, _Zvezda_?”

“Yes,” Buchanan murmured. He nodded, tightening his fingers in the blankets beneath him as he watched his owner expectantly. “I will not move.”

Steve hesitated for a moment before nodding once. Once he was certain that Buchanan would listen to him, he turned for the bathroom and strode in with a languid stride. He really only had to fetch their lube from the counter, but he’d already ordered Buchanan not move. He wanted to test his mettle and see if he could really sit as still as he commanded him to. Deep down, Steve knew that he thrived on the submission of his Pet. As tender as he could be to his little Star, there was just something about seeing him scrambling to do as he was told, ready to bare himself to him and take whatever he would give him without hesitance that made Steve’s blood boil with delight.

Taking the time to linger in the bathroom, Steve carefully stretched out the blindfold on the counter, and then worked his ascot off with a gentle hand. He hung the cloth up, followed quickly by his vest. Left to his shirt, suspenders and trousers, Steve carefully cuffed up his sleeves to his elbows, tucking the cloth in carefully as he glanced at himself in the mirror.

Then he paused. Shaking his head, he tugged his suspenders off and hung them up as well, taking a moment to undo the buttons of his shirt down to his chest. There was no need for propriety this night. He didn’t need to prove to his Pet what a gentleman he could be. In fact, he was certain that was the exact opposite of what Buchanan wanted.

Nodding openly, Steve turned and grabbed the blindfold from the counter, and the lube bottle. Giving the bottle a good shake, he turned and exited the room, stepping out into the quiet bedroom. Instantly, his eyes darted to the bed, where he spotted Buchanan laying on the bed, as stiff as a board.

He hadn’t moved an inch, just as Steve wanted.

“My good little Star,” Steve murmured in satisfaction. Smiling to him, he strode across the room, glancing down to his Pet with a dangerous intent. He watched as his boy’s eyes roamed over his figure, taking in the sight of him with open hunger burning in his eyes. Steve nodded.

“Here are the rules. I will blindfold you, and gag you. Then I will tie your hands up. You will not be able to move from this spot, until I decide you are ready to move.”

Buchanan stared up at him, his lips parted in a soft gasp. He could barely hold back his hunger for Steve’s words, his tongue darting out to dampen his lips. “Master-”

“You will not climax until I say you can,” Steve continued. He ignored Buchanan’s moan, slapping the blindfold in his palm for a moment before he let the silken cloth dance up Buchanan’s chest. “You will take what I give to you, and only that. Can you tell me the reason why we are doing this, love?”

Buchanan shook his head for a moment, before quickly amending his action. He nodded in turn, looking up at Steve with hope in his eyes. “You will prove to me that I am yours and no one else.”

“You are right, yes. But that is not all. We are doing this to teach you the value of my word. I say I will decide when you are allowed to climax. You will learn to trust me that whenever I decide you will be allowed release that is the proper time to climax. Not a drop before.” Pausing in his speech, Steve leaned over the boy, pressing his hands into the bed on either side of his head to stare down at him. “We are also doing this to finally dispel your doubts in me, once and for all.”

Buchanan swallowed. “D-doubts? But--”

Steve shushed him. Picking up the gag from their nest in the blankets, Steve held up the leather strapped contraption to his Pet. He watched in delight as the boy instantly lifted his head from the pillow, looking only the slightest bit uncertain. Without a word, Steve threaded the leather straps behind the boy’s head, and fitted the metal bit into his mouth. He listened happily as his teeth clicked down against the metal, and he tightened the buckle, until the metal bar between his teeth pulled just enough to push the sides of his lips back into a caricature of a smile.

Smiling broadly, Steve brushed his thumb over his spread lips, feeling the skin drying just a little under the pad of his thumb. “Doubts, yes. It seemed that no matter what I did to try and convince you that I find you the most beautiful creature on this Earth, you did not believe me. No matter how often I reminded you that you are mine and I have no desire to be rid of you, you still felt that I could somehow grow tired of you. Well… perhaps now you will finally believe me. This is a lesson in trust. Without your sight and without your ability to speak and inquire, you will learn that I know you inside and out and will do everything to give you exactly what you need.”

He waited until Buchanan gave him an affirmative nod and uttered a small grunt of confirmation before moving again. Light on his feet, Steve moved to the foot of the bed, where he fetched the ties from their small pile. He held up two lengths of the silk cloth to his Pet, watching as Buchanan eyed them hopefully. However, before he set about tying his wrists to the posts, Steve picked up the blindfold and carefully wrapped it around his boy’s eyes, cutting off his sight from the darkened room around them. “The only command I will listen for, is if you tell me to stop doing anything you don’t like. And I mean, truly don’t like. If I do anything you find completely abhorrent, you will knock three times on the headboard of the bed, love. But only then, will I stop. Knock three times. Yes?”

Buchanan nodded again. This time, he blindly turned his head in the direction of Steve’s voice, and he whimpered around the gag in his teeth. Still, he didn’t move his hands from the bed where his nails dug into the blankets insistently. Such a good boy, holding so still for him.

Steve smiled, though he knew his Pet couldn’t see him. With a gentle touch, he ran his fingers up the boy’s arms, tickling the skin gently before gripping his wrists. He pressed gentle kisses to his palms, telling him wordlessly how proud he was that he hadn’t moved from his spot at all. His boy learned so quickly.

Once he’d christened his palms with gentle kisses, Steve plucked up the ties again, and pressed his knee to the bedding. With deft hands, he tied Buchanan’s wrists to the posts of the bed, keeping his left hand in full access to the headboard, just in case. With a touch, he pressed his Pet’s knuckles against the wood, and leaned down to pepper kisses to his forehead for a moment. “Knock here, if you want me to stop. But only if you truly do.” he repeated. When Buchanan nodded, visibly fighting the urge to buck up into the air at the attention Steve showered upon him, he knew he’d dawdled long enough in this game.

In an instant, Steve righted himself, staring down at the boy’s body in front of him. Gone was the slow, painfully tender attention he had given him. All that remained was the lesson he was to teach his Pet.

Watching Buchanan carefully, Steve circled back to the other side of the bed, where he plucked up the bottle of lube he’d tossed onto the mattress. Loudly unscrewing the lid, he let the metal fall to the bed, where it bounced against his Pet’s thigh, before he poured a healthy amount of lube onto his palm. He smeared the viscous liquid across his palm and fingers, getting them nice and wet before he knelt down onto the bed again. He didn’t mind that he was still fully clothed. They would come off later. Right now, he was focused on bringing his Pet to the brink and prove to him he had total control over his orgasm.

Smiling to himself, Steve reached down and pressed his index finger up between his Pet’s cheeks. He felt the furl of his muscle against the digit, and the twitch of his boy’s lower half as he prodded and smeared lube across the tight muscles. Without hesitating, he pressed on, thrusting his finger up into Buchanan’s hole, where he stroked and stretched the muscles in an even, unforgiving pace. “You know I know exactly what you like. You think you can only be claimed once you are good and properly stretched, but I know you better than you know yourself,” he murmured.

Without waiting, he pressed a second finger into him, followed by a third after just a few, brief thrusts, and began to scissors the muscles open. “You like it when you are stretched to your limit. You prefer it when I have you firmly seated on my cock, stretching you beyond measure without more preparation. You thrive on it, _Zvezda_. Who else would know this, but someone that loves you beyond measure, hmm?”

At the head of the bed, Buchanan gasped around the gag in his teeth. He squirmed viciously, hands straining against the black ties that held him to the posts. But the silk didn’t budge one bit. Instead, the boy only twisted and whined through his nose, pushing back against Steve’s fingers as much as he could from where he was held fast to his spot.

Quick as a flash, Steve withdrew his fingers from his Pet’s ass and gripped his thigh tightly. He lifted his leg up to bare his cheek to him and cracked his palm across the smooth skin of his ass. He was sure the action stung, but he knew the sound of his spanking did more to gain his Pet’s attention than the slap itself. Sure enough, Buchanan froze in his spot, whimpering loudly. His leg twisted in Steve’s grip for a moment, but he thusly remained still in his spot after that. “Don’t move. I did not give you permission to move, pet.” Steve ordered. “You were not given permission to press yourself back on my fingers. I decide when you are ready for more!”

Loudly, his boy moaned into the room, though he fought against his own instincts to squirm for more attention. His cock stood proudly from his hips, red and damp at the tip, but he relaxed himself as much as he could manage, his knees splayed to the side as he silently pleaded for Steve to go on.

Steve relaxed, and he soothed his fingers up Buchanan’s thighs. The shiver it earned him was well worth the flush of his ass cheeks, still red from his palm, and he leaned in to press his lips to the tip of his length. “My good boy. I suppose you are rather insatiable. You prefer my cock over my fingers, don’t you?” When Buchanan nodded eagerly, Steve chuckled and laved the tip of his tongue over his weeping head. “However, you are not ready for me yet.”

With that, Steve turned and plucked up the glass dildo from the bed behind him. With a quick motion, he slicked up the toy in more lube, twisting the glass rod in his palm for a moment. He took the time to admire the toy carefully, stretching out his moment to leave his consort wanting, as he took in the sight of the clear glass glistening in his palm. The tension in the air grew palpable, the scent of Buchanan’s musk overwhelming as the boy fought like hell to keep his hips still.

After a long moment, Steve chuckled and pulled himself back into the moment. Feeling that the toy was sufficiently slicked up, he gripped the base in his palm, and lifted his leg. With a firm grip, he prodded the tip against the still-tight muscles. As much as he knew his Pet loved to be split in two on his girth, he knew that slow and steady was the key to their prolonged lesson that night. So with a gentle twist, Steve began to slowly, oh so painfully slowly, press the length into his channel.

The ascent was painstaking. Steve watched in rapture as his Pet’s muscles slowly swallowed up the glass rod, stretching to accept every unforgiving inch. He listened as Buchanan’s breath caught in his chest, bottling up a shout of pleasure that eked out in a pitiful whimper. Steve didn’t let up an iota, prodding further, painfully slowly, until the dildo was fully seated inside his pet’s ass to the hilt. Leaning back, Steve smiled and massaged his fingers up his thighs in firm strokes. “Look at you. Now I know for certain you could take me whenever we both want, yes?”

Chuckling, Steve continued to massage Buchanan’s legs, his fingertips digging into his flesh to near bruising. After a few moments, he lifted the boy’s hips from the bed, careful of the rod inside him, and slipped one of the bed pillows underneath his hips. The plush cushion held the boy’s ass aloft, displayed openly for Steve to enjoy until his knees fell completely aside. He looked delectable, splayed open and plugged nice and deep. His prick, now dark red and straining, trickled a steady stream of fluid onto his heaving stomach, looking ready to burst at any moment.

Steve didn’t move. Instead, he removed his hands from the boy’s thighs, keeping a torturous distance away from him as he allowed himself a moment to admire his body. His face, flushed dark red and dotted with sweat, twisted up into a grimace of pleasure around the bit in his mouth, a fine line of spittle running from the corner of his mouth. The blindfold stayed firmly in place, though Steve could easily imagine his Pet’s eyes blown wide in pleasure, pleading grey orbs staring blindly into the black fabric obscuring his vision. His fingers had curled into tight fists, the nails digging into the cloth tied around his wrists as his arms strained against the bindings, helpless to break them, but nevertheless trying all the same. It was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen in his life. If only he could immortalize this moment forever.

Humming in delight, Steve moved away from Buchanan’s side, where he sat on the edge of the bed, just out of touch of the teen’s hip. Turning to what remained of their collection of toys, Steve’s eyes landed on the little feather toy lying on the bed. The toy was nothing more than a thin rod, with which a small tassel of feathers had been secured to the end. He smiled and turned to his Pet, plucking up the toy instantly.

Without a word, Steve held the feathers close to his skin, tenderly tickling the soft edges along his hipbones. He watched in delight as the muscles beneath his sweaty skin jumped and rolled against the touches, twitching away from their softness as his body blindly soaked up the sensation. “What? Is this too much?” Steve chuckled. “That is indeed, unfortunate, but again… I think this is precisely what you need, my love.”

Buchanan whined, tossing his head on the pillow. As the feathers continued to tickle and dance up his damp skin, the consort twisted in his bindings, squirming every which way he possibly could. Away from the torturous touch, into the tickle that danced across the exposed flesh of his prick. He looked so confused, bucking wildly on the bed under Steve’s brushes.

Steve chuckled, watching in amusement as his Pet writhed in pitiful moans. He scooted up the bed, straddling his legs to dangle the feathers just above his Pet’s torso. With a hum of delight, Steve brushed the feathery toy against his cock, stroking the silken length in slow strokes, base to tip, again and again.

Buchanan practically screamed at those touches. He backed away from Steve’s onslaught, rocking his hips back into the pillow to try and evade the tickle on his length. Steve knew, very well, that the boy was in no pain. But stimulated? Highly so. He could only imagine what the teen was feeling now, to make him shy away from those touches like that. But he knew he wouldn’t get very far. Not with the dildo implanted firmly in his channel.

Swinging a leg off of his Pet’s lap, Steve knelt next to him and quickly pulled the toy away from his cock. He watched in fascination as his length twitched and spasmed at the sudden loss of stimulation, listening to the pitiful whimper that left him. Steve glanced up at the boy, running his fingers along the youth’s chest. So beautiful, and every inch of him belonged to Steve.

“What a good little boy you are,” Steve praised. He ran the feathered toy across Buchanan’s chest, watching him twitch and writhe against the stimulation. His eyes darted down to the boy’s cock, calculating the twitches and spasms. He could see a definite puddle of fluid on his stomach, sticky and thick as it clung to the tip of his cock in a ropey drip. Buchanan was close, he could see that.

Steve watched carefully, still running the feather along his nipples. He watched as Buchanan’s hips undulated, rocking up into the air blindly seeking friction from nothing at all. He watched his sac draw up, his length purpling and a grand twitch took hold. But just at the last possible moment, Steve’s hand shot out, his fingers encircling the base of his cock. He squeezed tightly, cutting off the boy’s orgasm, and ripped the feathers away from his nipples.

Buchanan screamed into the gag in frustration. He thrashed a little in Steve’s grip, trying desperately to buck up into his fingers for that last little push of pleasure. But Steve’s hand remained resolute, cutting off his climax until Buchanan went limp, shivering violently on the bed.

“No, Pet. You’re not ready to come yet,” Steve said calmly. He looked down to his boy’s face, and tutted slightly. “Seems you’re quite starving for it, no?” He chuckled. Plucking a handkerchief from his pocket, Steve gently wiped at the sides of Buchanan’s mouth, cleaning up drips of spittle that had formed and leaked from the corners of his mouth. With that task complete, Steve tossed the handkerchief onto the bedding before reaching down between the boy’s legs.

Buchanan whimpered, obediently spreading his thighs at the first brush of his fingers. He went taut on the bed, tugging sharply on the binds at his wrists as he tried to push back onto the toy in his ass for more pressure, more stimulation.

Steve frowned. He reached for the toy instantly, pulling it free from his ass and leaving him gaping. He listened to the plaintive little whine that escaped his pet, and sighed. “You know the rules. I decide when you come. Not you, Bucky. If you’re not going to listen to me, then we’re done and you can lay like that for the rest of the night.” He paused, running his fingers up the boy’s stomach. “Unless you think you can try again, Pet. If you don’t think you can handle it, knock three times and we’ll stop entirely and I’ll untie you. But if you don’t listen to me, I’ll leave you there. So what is it?”

Buchanan inhaled slowly through his nose. He remained taut on the bed, trembling under Steve’s gaze. Slowly, his hand curled into a fist and he shakily knocked his knuckles against the headboard. One, two…

And then he stopped.

Steve watched, staring at his hand, waiting for that third knock. But after several long moments, it never came. Instead, Buchanan’s fist went lax again and he shook his head, whining through his nose. He watched as the boy inhaled slowly, painfully so, before forcing himself to go limp against the bedding. He turned his head in the direction of Steve’s figure, staring blindly into the blindfold covering his eyes, before he uttered one, low moan.

Steve knew exactly what he meant. He wanted to try again, and this time he’d listen to him. He was so damn proud of that boy.

Smiling to himself, Steve nodded and picked up the toy again. With a firm touch, he seated its length back inside Buchanan’s channel, and ran his fingers up his chest. He carefully tweaked his nipple, twisting the bud in his fingers, before leaning in to press kisses to his bare chest. “Good boy. Very good boy. How about we add another rule to this little game, yes?” When Buchanan turned his head to him in curiosity, Steve chuckled. “Our headboard is a nice little tool for us. I will ask you yes or no questions. Knock once for yes, twice for no. Three times means you wish me to stop altogether, as usual. Alright can you remember that?”

Buchanan nearly nodded. However at the last possible second, he thumped his knuckles against the headboard one time. Steve cooed in delight at his obedience and pressed a kiss to his brow. He could practically feel Buchanan vibrating with delight at his praise.

With their new rule in place, Steve set to work. He picked up the feather toy again, running it along the boy’s bare body in even, slow strokes. He was enraptured, positively taken by Buchanan’s resilience. He reached down, taking hold of the toy and began to stroke it, pushing and pulling it inside his Pet’s channel. He watched carefully, watching as his cock, now only half hard, begin to twitch and spasm again.

Tutting quietly, Steve withdrew the toy from Buchanan’s hole and wrapped his fingers around his length again, stopping his orgasm a second time. As he held the teen’s twitching cock in his hand, he heard a choked off sob ebbing into the room. He looked up from his boy’s penis, only to find Buchanan shaking. His blindfold, tightly bound to his eyes, had been dampened by tears and another sob escaped him.

Deciding to switch tactics, Steve chuckled to himself and clambered off the bed. “Oh my little Pet. You’re doing so well. Do you want me to keep going?” he asked. He watched as Buchanan offered one, shaky knock against the headboard, and he smiled broadly. “Very well then. Let’s try something else now, shall we?”

Buchanan knocked once, yet again. He cried around the gag, bucking up just slightly for a little bit of attention from his Master. It was so simple, so… innocent. In a way, Steve felt he needed to praise his Pet just a little bit for how well he was behaving. Deciding to give him just a touch of a reward, Steve pressed his knee into the bedding. With a soft touch, Steve bent and wrapped his lips around the length of Buchanan’s near-flaccid cock. He listened as Buchanan gasped around the touch, though he struggled openly not to buck up into his Master’s mouth.

Steve hummed happily, pleased to see that Buchanan had learned his lesson. He most certainly deserved his reward. With a happy sound of his own, Steve bobbed his head, sucking Buchanan’s length with surety, drawing him up to full erection once again.

However, the moment he tasted the beginnings of his orgasm coming on him, Steve pulled back with a pop, leaving Buchanan wanting and crying, harder than ever, as he wordlessly begged to get off. “No. Not yet. We’re not done playing, Pet.” Steve said. Sitting up, he let his eyes roam over his figure for a moment, taking the moment to really soak up what was happening.

At any time, Buchanan could have stopped him. At any time, Buchanan had full access to knock against that blasted headboard and stop Steve from tormenting him like this. Yet, he did not. He clearly adored being stroked to within an inch of his life, and denied his release. And Steve was amazed to find he loved being the one to string the boy along, dance him on the fringes of his release, and then draw him back into the shadows.

It was the most powerful feeling in the world. He literally held Buchanan in the palm of his hand, ordering him when he could come, and Buchanan trusted him enough to allow him to decide when his body could find release. It was no wonder so many Masters and Mistresses grew to love their Pets so much.

Deciding that Buchanan had had enough of this, he clambered from the bed and walked to the headboard. With a careful touch, he quickly undid the binds holding Buchanan’s wrists to the posts. Before his Pet could utter even the beginnings of confusion, Steve turned him over to his belly, and refastened him to the posts. Once he’d finished, Steve turned his attention back to the bed, where he spotted the telescoping rod and his restraints. He knew exactly what he would do next. With a wicked smile, Steve grabbed both items and turned back to his Pet’s back. Without a word, he gripped his hips and forced him to kneel up, his chest pressed to the bedding and his ass displayed to the air about them.

Humming in delight, Steve spread Buchanan’s legs apart, and carefully laced the restraints around his thighs. They lay just above his knees, the clasps pointed inward towards each other. With that done, Steve picked up the bar and dialed it to its proper length, before locking the telescoping mechanism into place. With that done, he fastened the clasps of each restraint to the ends of the bar, and leaned back on his heels to admire the view. “You should see yourself from this side, my Pet. You’re so beautiful,” Steve sighed happily.

He watched Buchanan squirm a little, trying to close his legs. However with the resistance of the bar holding them apart, and the restraints above his knees, Buchanan was completely stuck. It truly was the most glorious thing Steve had ever seen. Buchanan, splayed out and open for him, displaying his raw, reddened pucker to him. His cock dangled openly, half-hard and dark red against the pleasures of the night. Steve wished he could capture this on canvas.

Smiling openly, Steve moved to the head of the bed, where Buchanan’s head was pillowed, cheek to cushion. He checked him over carefully, making sure that he wouldn’t get hurt in this position. When he was certain that Buchanan was alright, he reached over and touched his knuckles. Pushing them against the headboard to orient him, Steve pressed a kiss to his ear. “Again, Zvezda. Three times. You understand?”

Buchanan knocked once, sniffling.

“Good,” Steve purred. He leaned up on his heels, and ran his palm over the exposed lines of his ass. He massaged the mounds carefully, giving a gentle squeeze to the fleshier portion of his backside. Then, without warning, he drew his hand back, and lay his palm across his cheek with a loud ‘crack!’ When Buchanan cried out at the spanking, Steve ran his palm over the reddened mark.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he explained matter-of-factly. “I am going to spank you; you seem to have a deep seated appreciation for that as it is, but it is not out of punishment. And as I do so, you will not come. You will make yourself not come. I will not stop you this time, and you had better not come without my permission.” He watched the boy shiver in his touch, and he smoothed his palm over the reddened mark again before striking the sensitive skin again.

“When I have finished spanking you, I will fuck you. And then, only then, will you know if you are allowed to come. Do you understand?” When Steve received a half-hearted knock in the midst of another sob, Steve bent down. He listened carefully to Buchanan’s whimpers to assess if the boy was simply too far gone to properly admit his desires, or if he truly were enjoying this. He could hear the whimpers clear as day, but as he leaned in further, he heard the unmistakable sound of a moan mixed in with those whimpers.

 _‘I’ll be damned, he truly is enjoying this,’_ Steve thought to himself with a smile. He leaned back to watch his Pet for a moment before pressing kisses up the curve of his spine.

“Very well then. Let’s proceed then,” he said. Turning to his Pet, Steve sat down on the mattress, threading his leg beneath the arch of the boy’s body. It was two-fold reasoning: one, he was close enough to offer up a measure of comfort to Buchanan should he need the reassurance that Steve was taking care of him, and two, to keep a careful eye on the boy that he did as he was told. If Steve were too occupied with his task of spanking him, he wouldn’t want to find out too late that the boy had broken his promise and come without his permission. He’d feel it on his leg before that ever happened.

Now in position, Steve ran his fingers up the boy’s backside. He half considered using the paddle on his Pet, but changed his mind at the last moment. He wanted this first time to be as intimate as possible. Besides, he himself enjoyed the sting of his flesh on his palm. Perhaps it was a bit of self-pleasure as well.

With that taken care of, Steve ran his fingers over the cleft of Buchanan’s backside. He carefully threaded his fingers into the crease, rubbing the twitching pucker of his ass before delving in. He pressed his index and middle finger into his hole, relishing the looseness from the toy that kept him pliant. He listened as Buchanan moaned around the intrusion, and Steve crooked his fingers inside him. He felt for his prostate, running his fingertips over the bundle before pressing hard and vigorously rubbing it. He listened as Buchanan shrieked out in pleasure, trembling violently in his grip as he wept from the stimulation.

Steve watched carefully as he stroked and rubbed over his prostate. Quick as a flash, he removed his fingers from inside Buchanan’s body and brought his palm down over his backside. Four strokes later, he paused his actions to rub the dark red skin in soothing circles. He quickly checked his boy and was pleased to see he had not come yet. His cock, now painfully red and straining, hovered dangerously over his thigh, but he still did not release.

“My precious boy, you’re doing so well,” Steve praised. He ran his free hand down to Buchanan’s neck to massage the tense muscles. He felt the warmed metal of his collar under his fingertips and then threaded his fingers into his hair to give the dark strands a tug. “Good boy. Hold out just a little longer, _Zvezda_. You can do this.”

Buchanan only answered with another whine, weaker and headier than the last. He slumped against the bedding in the interim of Steve’s break. His hair was sticking to his forehead in clumps now, the blindfold totally damp from sweat and tears. With his cheek pressed into the pillow, Steve could see a definite wet spot under his mouth, and he knew the boy was absolutely drooling under his onslaught now.

Spurred on and totally aroused by the sight of his boy like this, Steve continued on. For long, agonizing moments he alternated from fingering the teen’s prostate to spanking him, to soothing away the sting. And with each rotation, Buchanan worked hard to keep his orgasm at bay. He slumped further into the bedding, boneless and pliant under Steve’s onslaught, as he continued to pleasure and control his Consort’s every desire.

Finally, it all became too much. Seeing the sight of his reddened skin, his precome dribbling incessantly against his leg, his weeping and begging for more, Steve couldn’t take it anymore. With a growl of want, he pulled himself away from Buchanan’s side, Steve scrambled behind the boy, and tore his own slacks open with ferocity. Shoving his trousers down his thighs, Steve plucked up their lubrication from the bed and slicked his own cock up. He was straining for release himself at this point and knew it wouldn’t take long at all to bring them both off. He wouldn’t torment his boy any longer. Now, now was the perfect time for his orgasm.

“Alright, love, hold still,” Steve commanded. With his cock slicked up, he gripped Buchanan’s bent hips and pulled him closer to himself. He nudged the tip of his cock into his hole, sliding in with ease as his Pet accepted his length to the hilt. Steve bit back a groan as he seated himself inside his hole and gave the teen a moment to grow acclimated to him again. He gave a few, cursory thrusts into his body, before tightening his fingertips on his hips.

He could read him well; this wasn’t going to last long at all.

“Alright love,” he panted. “Alright, you can let go. You have my permission to come, my darling.” He withdrew momentarily, hesitating for a moment to hear the teen’s whimper. Then, with a ferocious intent, he thrust back in, hard and fast, and picked up a quick maddening pace of fucking his dear boy. He held tightly to his hips, fingertips digging in sharply. He could feel his fingernails digging into the soft skin and he grit his teeth to fight off his own orgasm for as long as possible. So aroused and enticed by his Pet’s performance that night, he was already close to losing his mind. But he had to hold on. He had to bring his Pet off first.

He listened carefully as Buchanan shouted and sobbed viciously around the gag in his teeth. He looked down, watching the Consort bounce and shudder on his cock as he buried his face further into the pillow in front of him. He watched as his prick disappeared into his hole, again and again, splitting him open in righteous claim.

Minutes passed. The sting of friction took over them as Steve fucked him with abandon; he thrust and stroked with vigor, trying to bring the boy off. He himself held back, the back of his shirt now damp with sweat as he claimed him so thoroughly, listening to his cries and teary moans of pleasure. With a cry of his own, he leaned down and pressed kisses to the curve of Buchanan’s back, and angled his hips to claim his prostate thoroughly.

It seemed that was all he needed. While Buchanan had been far too sensitive to come off at that point, assaulting his prostate had done the trick. Steve listened as Buchanan’s cries turned into one last shriek of pleasure, his walls clamping down viciously around his prick. He came, long and hard, spilling into the bedding from all the pent up orgasms he’d had that night. Every single one had been bottled up, saved for this proper moment, and came forth at once, until his sobbing was absolute. Sniffles and whimpers echoed into the room as his cock spilled and twitched, growing more and more faint as he went totally boneless into the bedding.

And finally, his cries stopped as he went utterly still on the bed.

Steve huffed, hips stilling as Buchanan clamped around him like a vice. But it was only for a moment. As Buchanan’s walls continued to throb and pulse around him, Steve cried out, breaking his own trance to rut up into him viciously. He jarred the boy beneath him, stroking himself inside his tight walls before his prick twitched, spilling over into him. Steve gasped, his hips jarring to a halt as he came, long and wet inside him until he spilled over, his seed coating and overflowing in his tightness until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore.

Steve stilled, holding tightly to the boy’s hips. After a long moment, with a shaking breath, Steve withdrew from his body, fighting the urge to collapse to the bed. He felt like he was flying, his limbs jelly and his mind foggy. It took every ounce of his strength to open his eyes. When he did, he was amazed to find he was still on his knees. For heaven’s sake, he literally thought he was floating on air, his nerves on fire. Even his toes tingled.

Slumping backwards, Steve sat heavily on his heels, watching as his seed leaked out from Buchanan’s still spasming hole to run down his leg. He panted heavily, a tired smile adorning his features. He carefully watched Buchanan, taking a deep breath before he could trust his own voice again.

“You did- you did so well, my darling,” he panted. Wiping the back of his hand over his forehead, he carefully sat up enough to push his own trousers down his legs and shuck them to the floor. He sat down again, reaching out to unclasp Buchanan’s legs from the spreader bar and release him. But when he scooted over to untie his wrists from the bed posts, Steve was astonished to see the state his Pet was in.

Amazed and a little concerned, Steve shook off his own delirium and worked quickly. He unfastened his wrists from the posts, removed the restraints from around his thighs and carefully turned Buchanan over. He settled the boy into his lap, cradling him gently so he would not roll off the bed, and worked to undo the blindfold and gag from his face. Buchanan was trembling in his arms, a constant shudder that consumed his entire figure. When he finally removed the gag and the blindfold, Steve took a moment to assess his Pet’s features.

He was stunned. If he hadn’t known any different, he would have said that his Pet was completely intoxicated.

Shaking viciously in his arms, Buchanan slowly opened his eyes to stare up at Steve. Well it was more _through_ him than actually at him, but the effort was there. Buchanan stared in his general direction, his eyes glossed over and hazy. He slowly lifted a bruised wrist, his fingers dancing up the side of Steve’s throat to his jaw. “M-Master… I am- _Udovol'stviye vam. Pozhaluysta.”_ He attempted to sit up, his fingers still trembling as he touched Steve’s cheek. But in his attempt to sit up, the boy nearly rolled right off the bed to the hard floor below. He didn’t even scramble to save himself.

“Aye, no!” Steve said. He fought back a chuckle as he held the boy up in his arms. He could see the clear signs. This is clearly what all the aftercare he’d been training himself to use had been for. He had not been warned about this happening, but he could take this in stride. He wasn’t wrong with assessing Buchanan’s condition with intoxication. But instead of it being from alcohol, the boy was intoxicated on his pleasure and Steve’s control.

Knowing what he needed to do, Steve carefully extracted himself from Buchanan’s arms. Taking a clean quilt from the cupboard, he draped it over the bedding to cover the damp spot from their scene, and wrapped Buchanan tightly up in the comfort of his own blankets. When he was certain that Buchanan would not move, he quickly dressed in his robe to ring for Darcy. He was certain at this hour, the girl would still be awake.

Sure enough, moments passed before Darcy arrived at his door. Steve quickly ordered the girl to bring him a cup of warm tea with Buchanan’s sugar and cream in it, and biscuits. Darcy nodded and quickly set off to fetch her employer’s things.

With his supplies on the way, Steve turned back to the bed. There, Buchanan lay totally boneless on the bed, staring after him with growing consternation on his face. “No, no, no, darling,” Steve cooed. He darted over to the bed and crawled in, completely wrapping himself around his Pet’s figure. He threaded his arms around his torso, holding the Consort close to his chest. He was delighted to see Buchanan pillow himself immediately on his chest, and he worked to soothe him, comfort him in what had to be the most confusing sensation Buchanan must have been feeling.

“M-master-“ Buchanan croaked out. He lifted his head from Steve’s chest, looking up at him with a quiet concern.

“Shh, don’t you fret. I’m right here, love. I’m not going anywhere,” Steve reassured him. He pulled him closer to himself, brushing his fingers along his jaw. Still, Buchanan trembled in his grip, visibly shaken and drunk on his earlier orgasm. “Listen to me, Bucky. I’m right here, my love. You’re safe. You’re home and you’re with me. Can you follow my voice, darling? Can you wake up for me?”

“B-but I am wake…” Buchanan slurred.

“Not quite,” Steve soothed. He pressed kisses to Buchanan’s temples, one by one, his arms never stopping their soothing strokes.

Little by little, Buchanan swam back to the surface of his inebriation. Little by little, his trembling stopped, and his limbs grew less heavy and sluggish. Finally, after several long minutes, he went lax against Steve’s side, but in an entirely different manner. As if he had suddenly swam to the surface of a deep, cold lake, Buchanan had breached the surface and exhausted, collapsed against Steve’s chest for support and comfort. Steve was right there as he held him close, rocking his boy back and forth in his arms as he whispered praises into his ear.

“Very good, my love,” Steve murmured. He pressed another kiss into Buchanan’s forehead, feeling the clammy skin warming back up again. “Very, very good. You did so well. You are such a wonderful, obedient little boy.” Brushing his fingers through his hair, Steve smiled down at him. He needed to get water into him. The tea and food was on its way, but for now, he needed to hydrate the boy and clean him. That was top priority. “Are you going to be alright if I slip into the bathroom for a moment?”

When Buchanan nodded, albeit a little sluggishly, Steve carefully extracted himself from his arms. He made a quick line for the bathroom, where their cleaning supplies were. He grabbed his soaps and flannels, and a basin of water. He hauled his things out to the bedroom and set them on the side table before grabbing a carafe of drinking water and a small tin cup from the side table. He had, purposefully, ordered that Darcy keep that carafe and cup in his room ready at all times for such events. He was grateful for his foresight.

With his things in hand, Steve worked carefully, extracting Buchanan from the blanket. He ordered him to drink a cup of water slowly, and set about focusing on his task of cleaning him. The two of them remained quiet as Buchanan drank and Steve cleaned.

By the time both had completed those tasks, a knock came from the door. Steve quickly threw a blanket over Buchanan’s nudity before turning for the door. He found Darcy outside with her tray, and he was delighted to see she had not only brought the tea and biscuits from the kitchen, but she had brought a small plate of fruit and cheese as well. Bless her heart.

Thanking her for her thoughtfulness, he turned and took the tray back to Buchanan, settling it down on the bedding next to him. “There you are. Eat up, darling. As much as you can manage. I will tend to your bruises now.” Steve said. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead, watching in delight as Buchanan instantly went for a biscuit, plucking up the small cookie and taking a bite.

Buchanan nodded, chewing quietly on his snack before taking another sip of water. He had already poured himself another cup of water; Steve was grateful the boy remembered. He always made sure he had at least three cups in him after their scenes. “Is good biscuits. Did Darcy make them?” Buchanan asked around a rough voice.

Steve nodded. He turned to his side table, where he plucked up the lavender oil and carefully dribbled it onto a flannel. “Indeed she did. I quite like them myself.” He said. With a gentle touch, he began to work the oils into Buchanan’s free wrist. These bruises were much darker than he’d ever given them and he knew for a fact that the teen would be marked up for a few days after this. Steve tried not to feel giddy about showing them and his happy Pet off to the populace.

Buchanan nodded. He glanced up at Steve and offered him one of the cookies with a smile. “Then eat? I have fruit and cheese.”

Steve nodded. Smiling to him, he leaned in and allowed his One to feed him the biscuit. He wrapped his lips around his fingers, gently sucking before pulling back with a satisfied groan. “Delicious. But these are for you, Buchanan. I will only have one.”

Buchanan nodded. He worked quietly on his food, allowing Steve to tend to his bruises. He even turned over to his side to allow Steve to soothe his sore backside with tender strokes and touching. Buchanan had totally finished off his plate of food by the time Steve had finished tending to him, and obediently handed him the tray back.

Satisfied that the boy was well fed, Steve set the tray down before handing his Pet the cup of tea with instructions to finish the cup before sleep. With that, Steve tucked himself back into the bed, throwing his robe to the floor and leaning back into the pillows as he watched Buchanan slowly sip the warm tea.

By the time he had finished the cup, Buchanan’s trembles were completely gone and he looked completely at ease. He gave the cup to him before immediately tucking himself into Steve’s side. He didn’t bother to use a pillow and simply draped himself over Steve’s chest as he tucked his head under his chin to press his lips to his collarbone. “Thank you…”

“For what, my love?” Steve asked. He looked down at him, running his bearded chin over the boy’s forehead. He smirked at the disgruntled look he got from Buchanan and laughed when the teen swatted at his chin.

Buchanan leveled him with a look of irritation at being tickled during his thanks, and pinched Steve’s side. He offered up a satisfied smirk when Steve yelped at the pinch, and he wrapped himself tightly around his torso, never letting go. “Thank you for my collar. And my gifts. I loved each and every one of them,” Buchanan finally continued. He looked up at Steve, offering him a loving smile as he kissed his bearded chin. “And thank you for our play. I forever love it and look forward to more.”

Steve nodded. He offered him a genuine look as he pushed his hair back lovingly. “You are most welcome, my Pet. I will do anything for you that you deserve and need. I just need to know you trust me to treat you as you deserve, my love.”

“I do. I trust you more than anything,” Buchanan said earnestly. He reached up, brushing his fingers through Steve’s hair, before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. Buchanan lingered for a second, his eyes fluttering shut.

Steve leaned into the kiss, wrapping his fingers around Buchanan’s neck. He held him close, thumbing over his collar carefully. He relished the feel of the metal against his thumb and he smiled, pressing his forehead to Buchanan’s. “And I trust you more than anything, my One. My _Zvezda._ I love you, more than anything in this world.”

“And I love you,” Buchanan sighed happily.

Neither spoke for a moment as they met their gazes, happy smiles dancing on their lips. Buchanan's smile broke into a yawn at that moment and he giggled, burying his face into the side of Steve’s neck. “I’m sorry!” he laughed openly. “I am so rude!”

“Not rude! Tired and well worked over,” Steve reassured him. Though this time, he did tuck his Pet down into his side and wrapped him up in their blankets. “But I do believe that is a sign you must sleep now. Don’t worry, my Pet. I’m right behind you.”

Buchanan nodded. Yawning again, he settled himself into Steve’s side, wrapping his arms around his chest in a tight embrace. He dropped the tiniest kisses into his chest, moment by moment slipping under the pull of sleep until he was completely dead to the world.

Steve watched him drift off, content to hold him close as he slipped into slumber with a tender blithe charm. He felt his own eyes drifting shut as he held him, and Steve carefully tucked himself into the blanket to wrap around his Pet in a shield of warmth and protection. As he slipped off to sleep, Steve spied one of the binds still wrapped around the bedpost. He watched it through hooded eyes for a moment, listening to his Pet’s contented breathing as he slept peacefully.

The binding meant more to Steve than its true intention. It meant that his Pet –his beautiful, perfect, love of his life- trusted him implicitly in every aspect of their relationship. He trusted him to bring him pleasure and pain when necessary, and he trusted him to treat him right. It was a lot to live up to. But Steve was a resilient man. Steve was stubborn.

Steve would do anything for Buchanan, no matter what trials he may face. There was simply no other way to put it. He would forever put that little boy before himself and love him exactly as God intended he be worshiped.

 

* * *

 

 Extra note:

I found a picture from Sebastian's High School years, and it is the exact same age that Buchanan is in the story, appearance wise. I know I linked some pictures into this story showing a younger Sebastian before, but this image comparison shows the TRUE age difference between Steve and Buchanan now. Please enjoy this image and utilize this particular age of Buchanan from now on in your mental eye. I think you'll enjoy the story a lot more that way:

 [](http://s1379.photobucket.com/user/ellorenz1990/media/piZap_1463186919208_zpshujaxerb.jpg.html)

Side note number 2. I don't remember who the reviewer was that sent me this, but there was a reader that sent me an image they made for this story. It's a picture of what Buchanan's One collar looks like. I hope I described it properly, but for the sake of the reviewer's wonderful little heart, I wanted to post the picture she made for this story. Here you go, my dear! The image you made for me all those months ago!!!!:

 [](http://s1379.photobucket.com/user/ellorenz1990/media/eaaf2aa9e95e37d3d3634d102b07a371_zpsymqed6zt.jpg.html)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing a hard BDSM scene, so if I got anything wrong in this chapter, please let me know. I will do whatever I can to fix or amend any mistakes I might have made or written anything incorrectly (UNLIKE SOME FUCKING WRITERS OUT THERE IN THE WORLD *GLARES AT SPENCER*)


	8. Contention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week of physical training, Steve and Buchanan attend a social party for Masters and Consorts, where a conflict of interest with the Union has terrible consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned with my regular stories! I decided after the Big Bang, i wanted to focus on a little Victorian era Stucky for a bit. This actually took me relatively little time to update, and thanks to my lovely beta, this story is up and running again! I'm sorry for making you guys wait so long for an update!
> 
> ... also I'm sorry for this chapter. But I think you guys will like the ending??? :) 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!!!

“Come on, Bucky! Wake up, my love.” Steve urged. He stood next to the large bed, his hands resting on his hips. As he stared down at the bed before him, his eyes raked over the lump lying petulantly beneath the blankets, and the cat curled up above his head like a little furry guardian to his charge’s slumber. Somehow, Dooley had snuck into their rooms the night before and had spent the majority of the evening sleeping on Buchanan’s pillow, only now rousing at the sound of Steve’s voice to give the human a sour glare. Chuckling openly, Steve reached out and pushed the cat back to pluck the blanket up; he was met with a sour glare from his Pet, and he shook his head, tisking him. “Now what is that look for?”

From the nest of blankets and pillows, Buchanan mumbled in his native tongue, though Steve did not need to understand Russian to know the boy was cursing him. “Why do you wake me _now_?” Buchanan complained. He turned his head, staring to the velvet curtains on the other side of the room, where the barest hints of sunlight streamed through, cold and grey. “The sun! Is not even awake yet!”

Steve laughed at his Pet’s outrage, glancing down at his own figure. He was wearing a thin undershirt, and his canvas pants, the knees still stained from daily rugged use. Of course he’d chosen his outfit carefully; he had an agenda to follow that morning. “Now, what kind of silly question is that? I do seem to recall a certain Consort requesting that I teach him to build his body strength just like his dear Master. But I can’t seem to find that boy anywhere. The only one left is this little grouse tucked in the blankets.”

“Am grouse, yes,” Buchanan grumbled. He grabbed the cat, yanking him under the blankets with him as he hid them both from Steve’s watchful gaze. “Am grouse, and lazy, and I wish to sleep. Go away.”

Steve blinked, before snorting an undignified sound of amusement. “Is that how it is now? You tell me to go away? I may have taken mercy on you and let you sleep longer, but for that tone with me…” Turning away, Steve walked to the end of the bed. From there, he grabbed the blankets, sheets and all, and yanked them down the bed entirely. The cloths bustled heavily through the air as they fell to the floor and he crossed his arms, giving his Consort a stern look. “Up. Get up.”

Buchanan yelped in surprise as Dooley darted from the bed with an undignified yeowl to escape into the house. He sat straight up, his dark hair disheveled as he tucked himself into a little ball of nude flesh. “I am awake!” he cried, crossing his arms over his bare knees. He stared at Steve from his spot in the middle of the bed, and pouted. “But… is early…”

“And I said to wake up,” Steve said. He approached his Pet again, reaching out and taking his hand. Helping him out of the bed, Steve surveyed his naked Consort before running his palms over his upper arms in a soothing massage. “I promise you, my little star, once you are up and moving, you will wake up fully. Perhaps I will have Darcy prepare tea earlier than usual today. Would that help?”

Buchanan nodded. Reaching up, he rubbed his knuckles over his eyes, looking positively ruffled in his sleepy state. “No now,” he said as he stifled a yawn. “But yes to later. And I want my own pot.”

Steve smiled and leaned in. Pulling his little star close, he pressed a kiss to his forehead and inhaled his scent. “Yes, my love you may have your own pot. Now let’s get you dressed and out to the stable. It’s a beautiful day to get started on strengthening you up.”

With that, Steve took his Pet’s hand and guided him to the wardrobe. After a quick search, Steve found a pair of work pants he had long since outgrown, and pulled them free from their fastenings. Once he’d handed them to Buchanan, he turned his attention back to the wardrobe to find him a shirt. His search took a bit longer this time, though he finally decided on settling for a loose fitting top, one where the sleeves had become far too threadbare to be of any use to anyone. Pulling that shirt out, Steve held it out to Buchanan and ordered him to hold the bottom carefully.

Once his Pet had taken hold of the cloth, giving him a confused look in return, Steve suddenly reached out, and tore the sleeves from the shirt with a loud ‘rip!’. “There we go!” Steve said, holding up the torn sleeves with a smile. “Put that shirt on, I’ll help you tuck it into your pants.”

“But your shirt!” Buchanan exclaimed. He stared at the torn sleeves in horror, before meeting Steve’s gaze. “Why did you rip it?”

“Because, it has been far too long since I’ve worn it last, and it does not fit me anymore. But instead of simply giving it away or discarding it, we will make it your designated exercise shirt.” Tossing the sleeves to the floor, Steve took the shirt from Buchanan’s hands, and helped the boy wiggle his way into the cloth. “The sleeves would have been much too long on you to be safe. But I do want to make sure your back is protected from the ground, otherwise I would have simply left you without it entirely.”

“Oh,” Buchanan said. His brows knitted together in thought as he held his arms up and allowed Steve to help him thread the shirt onto his torso. Once the collar had passed his head, he looked down at himself, his eyes widening as he surveyed the baggy clothing on his torso in surprise. “Is so big!”

“Well, you are quite a bit smaller than I am,” Steve chuckled. Taking a moment, he bent down, grabbing the canvas pants from where they puddled on the floor and helped his Pet step into them. Once he’d gotten the canvas up past his hips, he carefully tucked the shirt into the pants, before buttoning the fastenings and giving the waist a little tug at the hem. “There we are. Just right.”

Buchanan smiled. He cast one last glance down at himself, giving a little twirl as he showed off his clothing to Steve. “I do not look least bit appealing in this,” he giggled, flashing that lovely smile up at his Master.

“Well, you’re not supposed to look appealing. You are about to get sweaty and dirty. The clothing is only there to mask you from the dirt and protect your skin. We’ll wash you up when we’re through.”

“How long will we take?” Buchanan asked. Taking Steve’s hand in his, he allowed the taller man to pull him from the room, the two of them crossing the hallway and descending the stairs together.

“Not too long,” Steve replied. Wrapping his arm around Buchanan’s shoulders, he pulled the boy close to his side and pressed kisses to his crown in a reassuring gesture. “We don’t want to tire you too quickly, or harm you. What we’re going to do will be very exhausting, especially if you are not used to it.”

“I can do it!” Buchanan exclaimed. Pulling from Steve’s arms, he beamed up at him, pressing his fists to his hips in a proud stance. “I am trained to do as you wish. I swear to it.”

Steve paused. Looking down at his boy, he admired the confidence on his figure, the way he carried himself just so. However, as he watched him, his smile faltered, and a concern crossed his mind. Even after all they had been through, Buchanan still saw anything they did as “appealing to the Master”. Buchanan had voiced his wants to become strong and able bodied, but Steve still did not know if it was to please Buchanan, or himself.

He didn’t, however, let his thoughts get to him. Plastering on his smile once again, Steve nodded to Buchanan and brushed his fingers through the tousled black hair. “Well, don’t get too confident just yet. Overt confidence in the face of inexperience can cause you harm, and I do not wish to see you hurt. You will take time to grow strong. I, myself, took many months to gain strength, and I had years of experience training my physique prior.”

Buchanan paused. His smile fell from his lips, and he looked down at the floor in front of him. “Months? But... I thought-”

“Shh,” Steve murmured. Leaning down, he came face-level with Buchanan. With a tut, he reached out, cupping Buchanan’s chin in his palm and tilting his head up to meet his gaze. “Don’t fret. We’re not doing this for me, love. We’re doing this for you, and we’ll take as long as we need to in order to give you the results you want.” Steve paused, tilting his head in curiosity. “That is… these are results that _you_ do want, yes?”

“Yes,” Buchanan replied. His earlier hesitance melted away at Steve’s inquiry and he nodded. “Is what I want.”

“You are not doing this for me?” Steve asked, prying further.

Buchanan shook his head, though his gesture was a little more hesitant this time. “No… but I am unaccustomed to this… I do not do things for me. Only to serve.”

“You don’t serve me, Bucky.” Steve rumbled. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Buchanan’s in a loving gesture. “You are my One. My love. I will do what it is to guide and teach you. I will always do everything I can to make sure you are your best self. Thin, built, it does not matter to me, because I love you for you.” Steve poked his index finger into Buchanan’s side, eliciting a giggle as he tickled him. “And if you choose that you wish for me to help you build your strength, then I will guide you to ensure that that goal is achieved properly and safely.”

Buchanan listened, his eyes hardening into renewed determination. Nodding eagerly at Steve’s vow, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around his neck in a tight embrace. “I love you, Master. I want to be best self. Please show me what to do.”

Steve relaxed, his heart thundering to life with those words. Huffing a delighted sound, he pressed his kisses to Buchanan’s neck, relishing the feel of that collar brushing over his lips. “That’s my beautiful boy.”

Standing upright, Steve carefully reached around, unfastening the collar. With a gentle care, he set it onto the hallway’s table, gently enough as to not tangle the links together as he gave his confused Pet a wink. “Now, since we’ll be in a stable, I think it is a good idea to keep this safely inside for the time being. Once we’ve washed up, we’ll put it back on so that it does not get broken. Are you ready, Bucky?”

“Yes, Master,” Buchanan said. His smile told the Captain everything he needed to know, and Steve beamed at him proudly. Reaching up, Buchanan threaded his arm through the elbow Steve offered him, and he practically bounced on his heels in anticipation. “I am ready.”

“Good, then let’s be off. Let’s see if we can beat the sun. We have a busy day ahead of us, my love.” Steve reached out, opening the door to their home and welcoming in the cool breeze of early morning. With that, the two of them vacated the house, taking the long walk down the dusty trail towards Liberty’s stables, where they would work together that morning. It seemed like such a little thing, showing Buchanan exactly what it was he did in that stable day after day…

But to Steve, he couldn’t have been more proud; proud that he had the privilege of showing Buchanan what it was like to want something only for himself. He would take a lifetime to give his Pet a world of opportunities, if he was asked. His One deserved nothing less.

* * *

 

Panting heavily, Buchanan dangled from the crossbeam, his fingers digging into the wood as he gave himself a moment’s rest. Sweat visibly gathered on his brow as he wheezed for breath, fighting back a whimper of pain. He had had some inkling as to what it was Steve did out in this blasted stable, but he’d had no idea how difficult it really was.

Gritting his teeth, Buchanan tightened his grip on the crossbeam and flexed his arms, slowly hoisting himself into the air again. His arms shook terribly as he struggled to lift himself above the beam, that whimper of pain finally escaping him as he managed, just barely, to clear the wood with his chin. “F-five…! Ungh… is hard!” he gasped out, his voice ragged with exertion.

For the briefest moment, a thought crossed his mind. He was insane! This was not what he’d expected in the slightest. _‘How difficult could this be?’_ his inexperienced mind had supplied. He thought he had strength enough to complete the task, but he had been so poorly mistaken. A newfound respect for his Master flooded him, and he turned his head to give Steve a weak smile. To think his Master was strong enough to do this countless times, day after day… no wonder he made such a beautiful lover.

“You’re doing well, my _Zvezda_ ,” Steve’s voice cut through the otherwise quiet air. Before Buchanan could look down at his Master, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his hips, giving him some much needed support. “Do you need to stop? If you do, there’s no shame in stopping now. You’re doing fantastically for your first time!”

Buchanan nearly gave in. For a brief moment, his mind clinged to the promise of mercy; his Master would not be angry with him if he stopped now. But just before he let go and allowed himself to collapse into his arms, Buchanan’s determination reared to life.

No… he could do this. A Consort was not weak. He had asked to learn how to strengthen himself, and his Master had given him that gift. It would be a slap to Steve’s grace if he gave up over something as silly as tired arms. With that determination, Buchanan shook his head, opening his eyes to meet Steve’s gaze. “N-no. No, I can do it,” he said through his teeth. “I can do it!”

Steve hesitated. His arms remained wrapped around his hips, supporting him. After a few moments, his arms loosened and he rested his hands on Buchanan’s hips. “Alright then. Keep going. You’re almost done.”

Buchanan nodded, fighting back another whimper. With his Master’s hands on his body, he felt the support, though he was quietly grateful that Steve did nothing to lift him. With his confidence restored, Buchanan turned his attention back on his task, lifting himself. Exhaustion was prominent as his chin grazed the wood five more times, but with a triumphant thrill, Buchanan shouted “Ten!” as he lifted himself a final time.

Elated, Buchanan barked a tired laugh as his arms finally gave up on him. Dangling from the beam, he looked down to see Steve giving him an ecstatic smile. “Wonderful!”  Steve cried, hugging his waist once more as he carefully lowered him to the floor. Turning Buchanan around, Steve carefully dabbed at the sweat on his forehead, pushing the damp hair from his skin as he showered him in praise. “You did so well, _Zvezda_!”

“Th-thank you, Master,” Buchanan said. His heart, still thumping wildly in his chest from exhaustion, swelled at Steve’s praise, and he leaned in, wrapping his arms around his waist tightly. “Shall I… do more?”

Steve hummed in thought. Carefully, he brushed his hand over Buchanan’s hair, and the Consort nuzzled into Steve’s touch, eager for more of those loving brushes. “You need to drink water. Then we’ll do one more thing, and I think that will be enough for today.”

“Really?” Buchanan asked. He looked out to the entry of the stable. The sun had risen some time ago, casting the countryside in a warm, golden glow. “But… is still early out?” he asked, confused. “We do not do more the rest of day?”

“No, silly,” Steve chuckled. Pulling away from Buchanan’s side, he tugged the boy towards the table, where their canteens of water lay waiting. Buchanan instantly pounced on his, guzzling water as he listened to his lover speak. “You do not want to hurt yourself. What did I say before?”

Buchanan swallowed, gasping for air as he wiped his dusty hand across his mouth. “Go slow, and build strength.”

“Precisely,” Steve murmured. Turning to face him, Buchanan waited patiently as Steve gave him a quick glance. “Rome wasn't built in a day, love. It will take you time to get used to this. Soon you will be able to do more than ten lifts, or twenty push-ups.” Pausing, the Captain’s expression shifted as a thought crossed his mind. “Let me see your hands.”

Buchanan nodded. Holding his hands out, he watched as Steve unravel the strips of cloth he’d wrapped around his palms to protect them from splinters, and Buchanan’s eyes widened. His palms were bright red from use, the skin beneath his fingers pinched and purpling with the beginnings of broken blood vessels. Buchanan frowned, wincing as Steve brushed his calloused fingers over the marks carefully. “Is bad?” Buchanan asked, his tone small and timid.

Steve shook his head, his smile returning to him. “Not at all. Just a sign that you’ve done some hard work, and should be rewarded accordingly.” Pressing kisses to his Pet’s palms, Steve winked at him. “We’ll make sure to put lotion on your hands later, so that you don’t develop callouses. But this is perfectly alright. Your palms will heal up very quickly.”

“Oh,” Buchanan said, simply. Pulling his hands back, he resumed drinking, finishing off the water. “What do we do now?”

Steve thought about it for a moment. After a time, he snapped his fingers and nodded. “How about this? Today, we have focused on your upper body. Tomorrow we do lower. That way we can spread out your routine and get you used to it. For now, let’s get you back up on the beam. Do you remember what I was doing the day I fell in here?”

“Sitting up?” Buchanan asked. He smiled, nuzzling into Steve’s side as they approached the center of the stable again. “But that will be easy.”

“Perhaps it will. But yes, that is what we will do now,” Steve said. When they had positioned themselves below the crossbeam again, Steve turned his attention back on Buchanan and straightened his shoulders. “Remember, just as when we did your push-ups, you will keep your stomach firm. You will dangle upside down by your legs, and keep your hands folded behind your head. Then, slowly sit up as much as you can manage. You’ll be able to sit up fully within time.”

Buchanan nodded, taking Steve’s words to heart. Giving him a confident look, Buchanan gestured to himself. “I will do as you say! How many?”

“Ten should suffice. Now remember, this will also build your thigh muscles up, as you will be using only your legs to hold yourself up. I will be right here, watching you.” Steve smiled, and bent at the waist. Scooping his arms around his boy, he lifted him into the air, and turned Buchanan on his head.

Buchanan laughed as he was turned upside down. He smiled brightly at Steve, feeling his Master lift him high enough to pass his legs above the crossbeam. When he felt the wood behind his knees, he curled his legs, hooking them over the wood as he dangled upside down, folding his hands behind his head as he was instructed. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s very good,” Steve smiled. Stepping back just a bit, he nodded to Buchanan. “Begin when you are ready. I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.”

Buchanan nodded. Turning his attention to his task, Buchanan looked up to the ceiling of the stable, and flexed his stomach to sit up. Once again he was surprised at how difficult the task was, and he grunted loudly, only managing to complete half the motion. He lowered himself again, giving Steve an uncertain look.

“You’re doing well. As I said, only go as far as you can,” Steve reassured him. He circled around, watching Buchanan carefully before stopping at his side. With a gentle touch, Steve reached out, supporting his palms on the boy’s shoulders to help him. “Go again. I’ve got you.”

Buchanan nodded. With renewed determination, he repeated the action, sitting up only as far as he could manage. Once again, he could feel Steve’s hands on his body, but they simply remained for support. A part of him wished that Steve would help him complete the action; another part of him was grateful that his Master would not impede his efforts. “Two… three…” he grunted, gritting his teeth as he strained against gravity threatening to pull him to the ground.

He managed two more before he began to feel his legs grow tired. Huffing out loud, Buchanan hesitated on sit-up number 5, dangling by his knees as he watched his Master carefully. Flashing him a tired smile, Buchanan nodded. “L-let me try… without you.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked quietly. His hands hesitated, still pressed to the boy’s shoulders as he took in his words. Uncertainty flashed in his eyes as he considered the options. Deep down, Buchanan hoped Steve would listen to him. He was a good boy. He wanted to do it on his own and make his lover proud. “Well… if you’re certain, _Zvezda_. I’ll be here to catch you.”

Buchanan nodded, turning his attention back to the task at hand. However, he did not take into consideration what his stalling would do. As he worked, uttering a pained sound at repetition number six, exhaustion finally took hold of him. As he lowered himself again, his muscles jerked as they let go, and he lowered himself too quickly. The jarring motion left him swinging more wildly than before, and his left leg gave out, losing grip on the beam.

Buchanan yelped in fright as he felt himself begin to fall. When his left leg lost its grip, he felt his right leg strain to hold himself up before abandoning its hold and he slipped from the crossbeam. At his side, he heard Steve shout out his name, and a pair of arms reach out suddenly to snatch him from the air. But instead of stopping his descent, his weight knocked Steve back, and he tumbled to the hard dirt floor of the stable.

Hitting the ground, Buchanan felt himself land on his right elbow as he sprawled onto his back. A bloom of pain shot up his arm and he cried out, sitting up quickly to take the weight off of his arm. Stunned, Buchanan looked down to his arm, only to be met with the sight of bright red blood welling up quickly and dripping to the floor. Pain throbbed heavily in his arm, and Buchanan cried out, clutching his elbow in his free hand to stave off the blood flow. “Master!”

“Bucky!” Steve gasped. Buchanan looked up to see Steve scrambling to his knees, sitting up from where he’d been knocked to the floor. He dropped down next to Buchanan, wrapping his arms around him as he grabbed Buchanan’s arm to examine. “Let me see! Let me see your arm!”

Buchanan whimpered, his breath hitching in his chest. He didn’t dare remove his hand from his elbow, clutching the throbbing joint to alleviate some of the pain. To his surprise, the pressure seemed to help some, and he tightened his fingers on his arm, squeezing the injured limb tightly. “It hurts!”

“I know, love, let me see,” Steve said. Looking up at his Pet, Steve offered him a wide eyed look of panic, his fingers still prying at Buchanan’s hand to remove it from his arm. When he’d managed to free the wounded limb from his clutches, Steve lifted his arm surveying the damage carefully. “Shit.”

“What?” Buchanan asked, fear welling up in his chest as he watched his Master survey his arm. Fat tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as the pain came back, renewed by the lack of pressure on the wound, and he sniffled. In his 18 years, Buchanan had never so much as received a scratch on his body, pampered too thoroughly by the Union to receive any sort of infliction. For the first time, Buchanan understood what real pain felt like, and he ducked his head, his lower lip trembling as he tried his best not to cry. “Is bad?”

Steve didn’t answer him. Instead, he got up, rushing to the table to grab the second canteen, and one of the cloths he’d removed from his hands. Dropping down next to Buchanan, Steve tilted his arm up, and carefully washed the blood from his skin to examine the cut.

Buchanan held his breath. He reached up, brushing his free hand over his cheeks to wipe the tears from his skin as he watched his Master survey the cut. “What is it? Will it scar?”

“I don't know,” Steve said. He offered his Pet a worried look, reaching up to brush his fingers through his hair. “Where else do you hurt?”

Buchanan blinked. Confusion filled his gaze and he shrugged his shoulder. As he did, a faint sting laced down his arm, and he hissed, turning to look at the offending shoulder. He spotted a growing patch of red on the shirt, and he frowned. “My shoulder…”

Steve followed his gaze. His blue eyes hardened in renewed concern, and he quickly helped Buchanan to his feet. “Come inside. Let’s get this tended to.” Without another word, Steve wrapped his arms around Buchanan’s waist, tugging him towards the house.

The sun blazed warm and bright above, though the heat was nearly overwhelming in Buchanan’s state. Squinting against the harsh lighting, Buchanan tucked his head, looking down at his sore arm. The cuts on his elbow had begun to well with blood again, leaving a little trail of the ruby fluid trickling down his forearm as they walked. He fought back another whine of pain, not wanting to look weak in front of his Master. It was just a cut. He could survive a little cut.

Soon, the two of them reached the house and he allowed Steve to usher him inside. But instead of going straight to their rooms as he’d expected, he felt Steve tug him towards the kitchen, where he heard voices. Buchanan looked up to see Sam and Peggy sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying their morning tea and completely oblivious to the accident that had transpired. Their entrance roused the attention of the others, and Buchanan shied back when he saw the looks of shock that crossed their faces at the state of the wounded Consort.

“What happened?!” Peggy exclaimed. Instantly, she got to her feet, crossing the room in two strides. Tutting over the boy, she pulled Buchanan into her cool palms, turning him to her so that she could examine his arm. “Oh you’re bleeding! W-well! We’ll have to get that fixed now won’t we?” Peggy said, her voice colored with forced comfort. It didn’t take Buchanan long to read through her words. She was worried, just as much as Steve was. Buchanan knew the weight of this situation and how dire it really was for the spouses. The care and comfort of Consorts was a serious thing, written as one of the cardinal laws in their ownership. By legal rights, Steve was to ensure that no harm came to Buchanan at all, and yet he had received an injury under Steve’s watch. That cardinal rule had been broken, an offense punishable by the Union should they ever find out.

Discomfort welled in Buchanan’s chest, and he lowered his gaze as Steve and Peggy fussed over him. As he allowed them to pull him to the kitchen table, a memory came to him. The one time Buchanan had witnessed another Consort in the Union halls become injured (The girl had cut her finger on a pair of scissors, learning how to sew) the entire hall was in an uproar as medics rushed to the girl’s aid. A sort of pride filled him as he remembered that day fondly. The girl had cried openly, big wet sobs wracking her as the nurse stitched her finger up and bandaged it. To think that he might have hurt himself so grievously, and had only offered up a few tears, made him proud. At least he was strong enough not to cry.

“His shoulder is bleeding,” Steve’s voice cut through the fog of Buchanan’s thoughts. Coming back to the moment, he watched as Peggy carefully plucked the shirt from his torso. He heard the sharp inhalation of surprise as husband and wife surveyed his shoulder, and his curiosity got the better of him. Twisting about, Buchanan did his best to look at his shoulder, and was surprised to find the skin was littered with cuts, clogged with dried dirt and crusted with blood. Perhaps when he’d fallen, the torn cloth of his shirt had pushed up, baring his shoulder to the stony earth below. “Sam, get the medical kit!”

“Yes, Steve!” Sam exclaimed. Surprised by his voice, Buchanan looked up to see Sam dart from the room, only to return moments later holding a box in his hands. Sam set the kit down on the table, opening the chest and pulling a glass bottle from inside. “Clean the cuts. I’ll fetch bandages.”

“Thank you Sam,” Steve murmured. Without taking his eyes off of Buchanan, he quickly opened the bottle, soaking a clean cloth in the solution before lifting Buchanan’s arm again. Buchanan spied the bottle, the inscription “Carbolic acid” scrawled across the paper, and he flinched at the sudden sting that crawled up his arm like fire. “Shh shh, I know, my _Zvezda,_ ” Steve said mournfully. He offered his Pet a sorry look, his eyes brimming with apology as he carefully cleaned his elbow. “I know, it stings. I’m sorry.”

“Steven, what on _Earth_ happened?” Peggy asked. Her tone was colored with anger, and both Master and Pet looked up to see Peggy giving Steve a stern glare. “How did he get hurt? You’ve had the boy a month and already he’s bleeding! Now you have to report this back to the Union, and Heaven only knows what they would do to you! So, what’s the meaning of this?”

Steve flinched. He was bereft of an explanation, and he lowered his gaze to the pink stained cloth in his fingers. In his strong, masculine glory, Steve had never looked so miserable. Yet, here he sat, his head bowed, his fingers tenderly caressing his Pet’s arm to soothe him from the pain of his injury. Quite suddenly, Buchanan understood. If Steve had been responsible for Buchanan’s injury, he had to report it to the Union. If he reported it to the Union, they could view this accident as negligence and could claim Steve was an unfit Master. They could take Buchanan away from Steve for good.

Panic settled in his stomach, and his eyes widened. He couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want to leave Steve! Whimpering, he looked up at Peggy, shaking his head desperately. “N-No, Miss Peggy!” He exclaimed. “It was… It was me. I did not listen to him and I fell. Please don’t report it. It was not M-master’s fault. It was mine.” Buchanan’s eyes welled up again, tears obscuring his vision as he pleaded for his Master’s sake. “Please… don’t make him report the fall.”

Peggy hesitated. Her anger dissipated at once, her arms falling to her sides as she listened to the boy pleading with her. With one last look to her husband, Peggy’s anger vanished, and a look of defeat overcame her. “I see… I mean, I suppose if it really was just an accident.”

“It was,” Steve mumbled. “I promise. I would never do anything to harm him.”

Silence filled the room. Silence that was broken moments later by Sam returning, holding a myriad of bandages in his hands. Setting the gauze down on the table, he looked to the consort, his face breaking into a reassuring, gap-toothed smile. “What’s the matter, Buchanan? Why do you look so afraid?”

Tearing his gaze from Peggy, Buchanan spied the reassuring look on Sam’s face, and he relaxed. “I do not want them to take me away. Steve did not hurt me. I fell. That is all.”

Sam nodded. Deciding, then and there, to break the discomfort of the moment, he carefully placed his hand on Buchanan’s back, dropping down to his knee to smile at him. “I believe you. Accidents do happen, but it is no one’s fault. Now you let your Master tend to you. This will pass us by, and everything will be right as rain again. I promise… the Union will not take you away from Steve.”

Buchanan listened to Sam’s promise, and relief washed over him. His relief was so palpable, he even felt Steve relax. Perhaps it would all be well after all. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you.”

“Good. Now that that’s settled, Peggy, I think that you and I should let the two of them be.” Turning to Peggy, Sam offered her his elbow, and he gestured to the door. “Let’s go to the study.”

With that, the two left the room, leaving Steve and Buchanan behind. Watching them go, Buchanan felt Steve moving at his side and he watched as Steve lifted his arm again to survey the wound. “Is… is it well?”

Steve nodded, though he did not speak. Instead, he picked up the damp cloth and swiped at the wound on his elbow. When Buchanan hissed at the sting, Steve flinched outwardly, leaning in and blowing gently across the wound. The gesture was soothing, and Buchanan sighed as the sting of the acid was cooled by Steve’s breath. “My God… Bucky… my little star, I’m so sorry. I should not have let go of you. I knew you weren’t ready, but I did and—”

“Master,” Buchanan pleaded. He reached up, cupping his palm over his cheek. Steve instantly nuzzled into his hand, brushing his beard over the soft skin of Buchanan’s palm before pressing a kiss to his hand. Buchanan shivered, closing his eyes at the tender gesture. “Master, you did not hurt me. I asked you to let go. Is not your fault.”

“But I am your Master. I know what’s best,” Steve said, mourning his mistake. Looking into Buchanan’s eyes, Steve’s momentary silence offered up a thousand apologies to his Pet for allowing him injury. “I will understand if you wish not to continue training. I will not force you to do that again, my love. You have but to tell me.”

Buchanan listened. Steve was offering him an easy escape from having to do such hard labor again. All his life, he had never been asked to do something so strenuous like that. And now that he had tried, his physical body did not want to do anymore. He could easily take Steve’s word, and not feel any guilt for giving up.

But that was not what he wanted. Not in the slightest.

“No,” Buchanan said. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead to Steve’s, feeling as the blond nuzzled into him to offer up all his comfort. Buchanan beamed, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing kisses to his cheeks, his eyes, and finally his lips. “I want to do it again. I want you to teach me to be best self. Please… please teach me to be healthy and strong. I do not want to stop.”

Steve listened, admiration glowing brightly in his blue eyes. For the first time since his fall, Buchanan watched as a smile lit his features again. Steve reached up, cupping his Pet’s cheek in return and nuzzling him affectionately. “You are so strong, my _Zvezda_. Like the little star you are. I am so… so proud of you.”

Buchanan beamed. Giggling softly, he leaned in, kissing his Master with love, inhaling the scent of his skin, the dried sweat, and the lingering aroma of dirt. It was the comfort of home, and a Master who loved him beyond compare, and he pressed his nose to his beard. “You smell,” he chuckled.

Steve laughed. Pulling Buchanan into his lap, he held him close as he nuzzled his unblemished shoulder. “As do you. I think baths are in order before I bandage you up. I’ll have Darcy draw us both one, yes?”

Buchanan nodded. “May I wash with you, Master? I want you to hold me as long as you can.”

“Of course, Z _vezda_. As long as you want me to.”

Buchanan hummed in agreement, relishing the feel of his Master’s arms. He did not move as Steve stood, picking him up and moving him from the kitchen. Cradled in his arms, Buchanan buried his face in his Master’s neck as he was carried up the stairs and taken to their private baths. He did not move even when Darcy came in, too content with burrowing into his Master’s arms to notice her presence.

It was only when he was carried into the wash room and set down on a chair, did he finally open his eyes. He watched as Steve lovingly shucked him from those work pants, leaving him totally naked as he sat on the chair and watched his lover strip down to nothing.

When they were both blessedly nude, Buchanan rose to his feet, watching as Steve settled into the bath, opening his arms out to him in an inviting gesture. With a sigh of delight, Buchanan crawled in, nestled in Steve’s arms in the warm water as he allowed his Master to clean him.

His arm still hurt. The ache in his elbow remained painfully prominent and his shoulder stung from where the warm water washed over the scrapes. But never before had Buchanan felt so safe and warm and loved in his whole life. If this was the kind of treatment he would receive after such hard work, then perhaps he would gladly look forward to future days of such labor...

* * *

 

It had been three days since the accident in the stable, and true to Buchanan’s word, he pleaded for Steve to train him every day since. With his arm bandaged up properly, and spare cushions from the house set up in case he took another tumble, Steve readily taught the boy everything he knew.

Soaking up his teachings like a sponge, Buchanan readily threw himself into the fray, trying his damn best to keep up with Steve’s prowess. He worked hard, sweating and struggling, and after three solid days he mastered the basics of keeping his body in shape.

But of course with such hard work, the inevitable came: Buchanan woke that morning, nearly too sore to move. With the sting of scabs forming on his cuts and scrapes, and the over taxation of his muscles, the morning of their fourth training day dawned to the pained moans of the boy as he tried to sit up from bed. It had taken Steve only a few moments to rouse to the sound of his whimpering, and he woke instantly, turning to tend to his little star.

Scooping the Consort into his arms, Steve quickly rushed him to the bath, drawing warm water and filling the tub to the brim before setting Buchanan in to help relax his tired muscles. Buchanan had been petrified, worried that he’d done something wrong to cause himself such ache, but with Steve’s reassurance, he quickly relaxed. The process of physical training was long and difficult, and would be paved with days of discomfort. But the pain would pass, he promised his love as he brushed his hair with his fingers lovingly.

After a long, well-deserved bath, Steve drained the tub and picked Buchanan up once more. He had been pleased to see his figure was much more relaxed than it had been, and he readily took him back to bed, where he proceeded to massage his stiff limbs, working the knots and kinks out of his figure. And even still, as he worked to tend to his aching body, Buchanan inquired if they would resume their training again that day.

With the promise that they would pick back up where they left off after he’d taken a well-deserved break, Steve worked eagerly to dote on his Pet, bringing him food and drink, rubbing his tired muscles, and delivering loving kisses to him when Buchanan did not complain at his pampering. They stayed in bed the remainder of their fourth day, taking the opportunity to simply shut out the world and recuperate together. Steve didn’t admit it, but as he held his love in his arms and allowed the aching teen to cuddle him eagerly, he had never felt more pleased in his life. To hell with the rest of the world outside. His Pet needed him, and he would readily stay in bed all day, if that’s what it took to comfort him.

On the fifth day, Buchanan felt well enough to venture out of bed. He walked with the slightest limp, fighting back a grimace as he followed his Master about the house, but never once did he complain about his state. In fact, he looked _pleased_ with himself, knowing full well that he’d done a good job and was on the road to building his strength just like his beloved Master. Despite Steve’s worry that he might push himself too far after such a short recovery time, Buchanan readily promised him he was fine and well enough to move on his own.

By evening time, Buchanan was almost back to his old self, a feat that comforted Steve to no end. And just in time for company, it seemed. That night, an old friend of his, Arnold Roth, had stopped by the house to meet the boy for the first time and join them for drinks. At his side, Mr. Roth’s beloved husband, Michael Bech, spent the majority of their visit talking eagerly with Buchanan, and had proclaimed that he wanted to take Arnold with him to an auction to purchase their own Pet.

“Arnold, Darling!” Michael exclaimed. “I do wish you would pay attention to this dear boy! Look how precious he is. Makes me want one too, and you best believe we will be scouting out one in the near future. Don’t you think we would look so handsome, with a boy of our own?”

Steve looked up from where he was conversing with Arnold, only to stifle a smile at the bashful look that crossed his Pet’s face. At his side, Arnold barked in laughter, turning to face Buchanan. “He’s a right beauty! I suppose I cannot fight the yearning for a Pet myself. You two look so happy together, Steven.”

“We are,” Steve sighed in delight. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers through Buchanan’s hair, watching happily as Buchanan took the moment to wrap his fingers around his wrist and kiss his hand. “He’s been the light of my life ever since I got him. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

“I can see that,” Arnold said, smiling at his friend. “I do hope you’ve taken ample opportunity to show him off to the masses. A beauty like this deserves nothing less.”

“I have,” Steve said, though his voice trailed off. “Although we haven’t over the past week or so. Just no events to attend, it seems.”

“That’s a travesty,” Michael said. “Have you made any plans for this evening?”

“No, I have not,” Steve replied. “Just thought we’d stay in, perhaps catch up on some reading. Buchanan was very interested in listening to the latest installment of Dostoyevsky's serial.”

“Bah! That is boring,” Arnold said, sniffing at the notion. “Why don’t you take him out to Paddington this evening? Michael and I are headed out for a party once we’re through here. You should join us. Take the boy out, show him a good time! I promise, the drinks are delightful, and you could give your maid a night off from cooking for you.”

Steve considered it. Gazing down at his Pet, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Does that sound fun to you, love? Would you like to go out this evening?”

“Yes, Master!” Buchanan said eagerly. Turning on his cushion, he lay his arms in his lap, gazing at Steve from the cradle of his elbows as he offered up an innocent smile. Lifting his hand, he walked his fingers up Steve’s thigh, before wrapping them around the brandy in his grasp and plucking the glass from his fingers. He lifted the glass to his own lips, taking a sip of the dark liquid and flashing him a playful look. “Perhaps, night of fun... It would be good for both of us?”

Steve fought back a shiver. Watching the teen tease so eagerly made his skin heat up with pent-up desire, and he cleared his throat. Reaching out, he brushed his hand along the sleeve of Buchanan’s muslin shirt before cupping his shoulder. “I think that’s a brilliant idea. But you can have your own brandy when we get there, so…” he paused, taking the glass back and flicking Buchanan’s nose with a grin. “This is mine.”

“Splendid!” Michael cried. Standing up, he held his elbow out to Arnold, helping him to his feet and flashing Steve a smile. “We should go so that you two can get ready. We will see the both of you there. The dancehall, 8 o’clock sharp. Don’t be late!”

“Of course,” Steve said. Standing from his seat, he shook his friends’ hands one by one before nodding. “We will see you both there. Safe travels.”

“Safe travels,” Arnold replied, before tugging his husband to the door to take their leave.

Steve watched them go. The moment they left the room, Steve helped his Pet to his feet, watching as Buchanan struggled against his sore thighs, and his smile fell away. “Are you sure you want to go out, my Pet? You still seem to be in pain.”

“I am certain,” Buchanan replied. Wrapping his arms around his Master’s waist, he traced his index finger up Steve’s spine, before raking his nails over his ribs to place his palm just above his heart. “I want to go out with you. Is no trouble at all to me. Perhaps… night of fun will make me forget the ache.” Looking up at Steve, Buchanan’s eyes flashed, before darkening considerably. His smile turned wicked, and he leaned up on his toes to pull his Master into a kiss. He reached up, cupping his hand over the back of his neck and pulling him down to meet his kiss.

Lingering for a moment, Buchanan exhaled, a soft sigh leaving him as he tugged on Steve’s lower lip. The faintest flicker of tongue danced across his lower lip, begging entrance, before he pulled back and bumped his nose against Steve’s. “And perhaps when I forget pain… we return home and you make love to me? I miss you so very much.”

Steve shuddered. He huffed on a gasp, his eyes closing as his fingers tightened on Buchanan’s hips. Christ, what the boy could do to him with just a kiss. He felt weak at the knees, his arousal already racing through his veins like liquid fire. “God, you are a terrible little minx,” Steve growled. He nipped Buchanan’s lower lip in return, eliciting a moan from him. “Behave yourself.”

“But, I am…” Buchanan whispered. Still, he pulled back at long last, flashing Steve a dangerous gaze before breaking free from his hold. He turned away, hiding a limp with his saunter as he made for the door of the study. “Go dress, old man. I am waiting.”

God, but Steve had never moved so fast in his life. The moment Buchanan left the room, Steve darted upstairs to change, his thoughts running rampant with the possibilities. A giddiness filled him as he thought of the prospect of the night: drinks, laughter, good food, and returning home to take his Pet to bed after nearly a week’s abstinence. He could practically taste the Consort’s orgasm already, and he craved seeing that bliss on his love’s face once again.

Practically giddy with the thought, Steve donned his best ensemble, smoothing the white silk of his waistcoat before buttoning his tail coat shut. He reached up, examining his appearance in the mirror as he straightened his bowtie and brushing his fingers along his beard. Satisfied, he plucked his top hat from the hook, and slung a smartly tailored inverness over his shoulders before descending the stairs. He went to the foyer, where he spotted Peggy fussing over Buchanan’s appearance.

Steve was stunned at the sight of his Pet. He felt his cheeks flush red as he watched Peggy polish his Pet’s collar and apply a thin dusting of rouge to his cheeks. When Buchanan looked up at him to offer a loving smile, Steve’s heart fluttered to life. Peggy had taken it upon herself to color the boy’s skin with pale powder, giving him a lovely glow that showed off the rouge on his cheeks, and his blue eyes sparkled at the sight of his Master watching him so fondly. Steve would most certainly do well to coddle to his Pet’s every whim that evening.

“If you two are headed out for the evening, I suggest you get a move on,” Peggy’s voice cut through the loudness of Steve’s mind. Shaking himself, he looked up to see his wife winking at him before gesturing to the door. “The 8 o’clock hour is nearly here. I suggest you make love to your boy later.”

“Right,” Steve said. He cleared his throat, approaching Buchanan before taking his arm. He supported his Pet’s balance as Buchanan pulled his leather slippers on, before tugging him for the door. “Right then. We’ll be back this evening. Don’t wait up for us.”

“I hadn’t the slightest plan on doing so,” Peggy chuckled. Pushing them both out the door, she leaned her hip against the frame as they descended the stairs together. “Try not to enjoy yourselves too much tonight.”

Steve hesitated. He looked down to his Pet, recognizing the lingering visage of arousal in his blue eyes, and he knew then and there he was a doomed man. This boy would push him to the brink that evening and have the grandest time doing so. With the way his gaze taunted and his body cried out for Steve’s pleasure, he’d be a lucky man if the two of them made it home before they both lost control of their arousal in public. Wouldn’t that be a tale to pass down for years to come? “Wife of mine, I make no promises…”

* * *

 

The clock struck 10, but the party about them remained as lively as ever. High above, the dance hall was lit by the amber glow of dozens of lamps that warmed the room considerably. In the midst of the crowd, Steve laughed as he listened to Thor’s boisterous voice share a story with their little group that had the lot of them in stitches. He tightened his arm around Buchanan’s waist, feeling the Consort lean into his side for support, loosened up by the alcohol he had imbibed under Steve’s careful moderation.

Somewhere in the crowd, Tony had long since disappeared, dragging his own Pet off to converse with another couple. From the other side of the hall, loud laughter could be heard, raising into the ever growing din around them. Steve looked up at the sound, his eyes scanning the crowd around them before he spotted Tony talking animatedly with another man. At his side, Virginia simply rolled her eyes before patting her Master’s shoulder fondly, and Steve smirked.

“He looks to be having a good time,” he commented. At his side, Arnold looked up from his scotch glass to see what the fuss was about.

“Yes, it seems that way. There should be a proper tax on scotch when it comes to Tony Stark. The man hasn’t left the glass alone all evening.”

“Oh let him have fun, my dear,” Michael cut in. He gestured to Steve and Buchanan and the pleased look that crossed the Consort’s pink face. “Just look at Buchanan. Even he’s had his fill, and he’s enjoying himself. We all are! It’s a night to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? Did I, perhaps, miss the news?” Thor asked. “What are we celebrating?”

“Full bellies, good drink, and a night out with companions. What more do you need to celebrate, sir?” Arnold asked, raising his glass.

“Nothing whatsoever. I’ll toast to that!” Thor replied. He turned, pressing a kiss to Jane’s temple as she plucked his own glass from his fingers to finish off his drink with a cheeky smile. “But it seems I might have run out myself. I’ll have to refill now!”

“I’ll go,” Steve offered. He raised his glass, indicating its need to be refilled as well. “My darling Pet has taken it upon himself to help me finish the last two, so I think it’s high time I’ve gotten the boy his own.”

“Thank you Steve. A bit of gin for me sounds good.”

With Thor’s request, Steve nodded and took the offered glass before tugging Buchanan into his arms. With his barely contained libido emboldened by the alcohol flowing through his veins, he watched with delight as his One stumbled into his chest with a surprised gasp and Steve pressed forward, nipping his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Ignoring the sharp inhalation at his action, he wrapped his fingers around his collar, holding the Consort firmly by the neck. He gave the chains a tug, jingling them to gather the lad’s attention. For a brief moment, Steve’s mind was elsewhere from this party, as he mouthed openly across that swollen lower lip he loved to tug on so much. Warm breath ghosted across damp skin as Steve licked the swollen skin he’d tormented so thoroughly. A long moment passed as Consort and Master kissed, blind to the warm, golden-hued room about them as they melded, once again into a living entity of adoration.

Finally, when the need to breathe trumped their momentary lapse from reality, Steve broke the kiss. He withdrew then, watching the absolutely ravenous desire that burned in Buchanan’s eyes at that teasing gesture and Steve chuckled. “You’ll behave yourself around the others, yes?” he asked. His thumb massaged the chains around Buchanan’s throat, relishing the warm metal there before he fondled the column of perfect skin beneath his hand.

“Y-yes, Master,” Buchanan murmured. His voice took a dreamy tone, drunk on the moment and the simple, yet effective reminder of Steve’s dominance over him. He practically melted into Steve’s arms, though he straightened himself up at the last possible moment to gather his wits about him as best as he could in polite company. It didn’t take a keen eye to see his arousal then, and the lad shifted uncomfortably to try and hide his reaction from the others.

Once again, Steve was enthralled at the sight of his Pet’s easy submission, and a shiver of anticipation rattled him to the core. Tightening his fingers around Buchanan’s neck, Steve pulled him closer still, their chests brushing and his lips caressing the shell of the Consort’s ear. “Very good, _Zvezda._ I promise you, you will be rewarded properly tonight for being such a good boy…”

“Ah, Steve…”

Shaking himself from the moment, Steve broke contact with Buchanan, only to glance up and find the rest of his friends staring at him. Equal expressions of amusement and pride colored their appearance as they watched Master and Pet conversing, and Steve fought the urge to laugh. At his left, Arnold touched Steve’s arm, and he winked knowingly before speaking again. “I do believe you have a friend waiting on his drink. Besides, you’re making dear Michael jealous. He’s already demanded we go to an auction this week. Don’t make the man regret waiting much longer now.”  

Steve bowed his head, silently apologizing for delaying on his task, though he couldn’t help but feel delighted at their collective, positive reactions. Deciding he’d dawdled long enough, Steve pressed one final kiss to Buchanan’s brow before turning and making his way through the crowd towards the bar. He felt comfortable leaving his Pet behind with the others; they would take good care of him. Besides, he wouldn't stray far, and when he turned back towards his friends, he could clearly see Buchanan standing with them, giggling at something Thor said. A swell of delight filled his chest as he watched Thor give the boy a friendly hug before turning his attention back on his own Pet. Comforted by his Consort’s supervision, Steve greeted the barkeep with a smile. “Two gins and a sherry for me please.”

As he waited for the barkeep to pour the requested drinks, Steve felt movement at his side. He looked up to see a man suddenly standing next to him, his back to the bar and his gaze drifting over the crowd. He didn’t quite recognize him at first, and Steve turned to his companion to offer him a friendly smile. “Greetings, sir. I do hope the evening is treating you well.”

The man didn’t speak for a moment. Instead, he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a handkerchief and plucking his spectacles from his face. He took the moment to clean the lenses before wiping the handkerchief over his bald head and answering Steve. “Greetings. The evening could be treating me better. I’m amazed you all haven’t succumbed to the heat in here.”

Steve nodded. “It is quite warm in here, but I think the flow of alcohol has kept us all comfortable for the night. Perhaps a sherry would help cool you down, mister…”

“Sitwell,” the man replied. “Jasper Sitwell. And I think I should pass. I’m not here for the drink, I’m afraid. I’m here for work.”

“Oh?” Steve asked. “What is it you do?”

“I work for the Union. Officer for the care and keeping of Pets. Top marks in my field, I should say,” Jasper replied. Glancing up at Steve, he offered him a bow before flashing Steve a smile. “Large gatherings like this, it is imperative we remain alert and observe the attendees. Wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to anyone’s Pet on such an occasion now would we?”

Steve nodded, though his earlier cheer fell away. How strange, that a Union worker, especially one of such stature, would seek him out specifically to chat. “I don’t suppose we would. God knows, I would be devastated if my Pet were to become injured at such a gathering.”

“Rightly so,” Jasper said. Turning to Steve, he smiled at him, though the smile was devoid of true cheer. “Which one is yours? Why don’t you have him on your arm?”

Steve paused, glancing out to the crowd. It struck him as odd that the Officer had described his Pet as “he” without knowing his name. Then again, the Union kept such an extensive record of their Pets that it shouldn’t be too strange to assume the man knew exactly who he was speaking to. Looking across the room he spotted Buchanan, watching with delight as the boy turned to hobble over to talk with Arnold. “There, the boy with black hair.”

Jasper turned, his gaze landing on Buchanan. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his eyes trained on him as his brows knitted together. “I see. And uhm, would one of these drinks you’re securing be for him? At such a time as this? Seems rather irresponsible to intoxicate him like that, if you ask me.”

Steve’s posture straightened as he looked to Jasper, his own features forming a tight frown. “It is perfectly legal for me to purchase my Pet alcohol, sir. He’s had plenty drink with me at my own home, and he enjoys it.”

“Hmm,” Jasper hummed quietly. He leaned away from the bar, his hands going to the pockets of his suitcoat as he watched Buchanan. “I see. And he makes no complaints at all of your decorum about him?” When Steve didn’t answer him right away, Jasper looked up to meet Steve’s eyes. His lips quirked into a half-smile, and he shrugged. “Perhaps if I went to speak to him myself, I would find no reason to be concerned of any of his thoughts on your care?”

All at once, Steve’s stomach clenched and suspicion began to fill him. He turned away from Jasper, grabbing the drinks from the bar top as he fought back the urge to defend himself. Why on Earth was this Union worker asking such a question? His offhand comments did little to settle Steve’s thoughts, and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of him and enjoy the remainder of the evening with his Pet. “No reason at all, I can assure you. I don’t mean to be rude, Mister Sitwell, but I do believe I must return to my Pet’s side. That is, after all, what you are most concerned about? The fact that he is currently unattended?”

Jasper simply barked a laugh at his question. “You worry too much. I merely asked if I may speak with him to see how he is faring in your care. Why do you raise your tone with me? Do you have something to hide?”

“There is nothing to hide,” Steve said shortly. His suspicion had given way to anger, and his hands trembled as he clutched the glasses tightly in his grip. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had enough of your accusations, Mister Sitwell. Good evening to you.”

But just as Steve turned to leave the man behind, a hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him with a vicious jolt. Steve stumbled backwards with the force of that touch, the contents of his glasses sloshing out wildly. However, just as he righted himself and turned to confront the bastard that had grabbed him, he saw Jasper’s smug expression, and the sight of his fingertips digging into his shoulder. For a moment, Steve was stunned into silence as he noted the uninhibited glee that welled up inside the Officer. “Mister Sitwell,” Steve ground out. Shaking his arm, he dislodged the man’s hand from him, taking a step back to evade his touch again. “I said I’m returning to my Pet’s side. Have a good evening and _please be on your way_.”

“If you have nothing to hide, then why do you shun my request to speak to him?” Jasper said. He once again ignored Steve’s demand, crowding into him forcefully. Any hints of civility had been shed like a second skin, leaving behind nothing but a triumphant gleam and wicked intention in his dark eyes. “Or is there a reason you have chosen to treat me in such a disrespectful manner? Perhaps much the same way you treat your Consort?”

“”What?!” Steve barked. His eyes widened at Jasper’s words, unaware that his outburst had drawn the attention of everyone nearby. Under the scrutiny of several party-goers, Steve squared his shoulders, his rage at such a claim wholly apparent in his posture. “Where in the bloody hell did you get that idea?!”

It seemed his rebuttal would go unnoticed. Ignoring Steve’s protests, Jasper shoved past the Captain, jarring him on his feet as he approached the unsuspecting boy from behind. “Your tone suggests deception, sir, and the Consort’s gait shows he is in pain. I believe that in such a case the Union has legal right to intervene if they feel there is such need of it!”

For the first time since their meeting, he felt genuine fear clutching his heart. Before Steve could stop him, Jasper turned on his heel and approached the group, his shoulders back and head held high. Like a sea parting, the crowd dispersed as he made his way over to them, before stopping just behind Buchanan.

Steve watched in growing dismay as the man grabbed Buchanan’s right shoulder, turning him about with a quick motion. The wince of pain Buchanan offered at being grabbed on his injured arm, coupled with the look of sheer terror that lit his eyes at the sight of Jasper spurred Steve on and he sprinted after Jasper, dropping the glasses to the floor with a splintering crash. Alcohol spilled across the floor underfoot, and Steve stumbled as he slipped on the liquid, but that did little to stop him. Tripping past the spill, Steve kept his eyes locked on Jasper’s back, watching the exchange carefully as he bolted across the room. “Bucky!”

“Stand back, Captain!” Jasper said, his voice raising into the crowd. Around them, partygoers stopped, their eyes landing on the spectacle as it unfolded. “You will do well to keep your tongue steady. This is a dire situation you’ve gotten yourself into, and the Union will see to it that you are justly prosecuted for harming this Consort!”

Around them, a rumble of dismay escaped the crowd as they watched the Officer make his claim. In Jasper’s hands, Buchanan suddenly wrenched back, trying to break his hold as he snapped his eyes to Steve with panic written on his features. He tried his best to worm his way out of Jasper’s hands, but cried out when Jasper only tightened his grip, yanking him back from Steve and forcing the teen to stand behind him.

Steve felt his blood turn to ice, looking up to see two more Union workers approaching. A hand landed heavily on his shoulder again, yanking him back from Buchanan’s outstretched arms, and Steve’s heart clenched painfully at the cry of dismay that left his Pet. “What are you _doing_?! Let go of him now!”

“See here, now, what is the meaning of this?!” Thor’s voice thundered over the display. All turned to see the man giving Sitwell a dark look, his stance broad as he approached Buchanan and Steve. “What are you saying? Are you suggesting that this is a case of abuse?”

“Yes, Mister Odison, that is precisely what I am saying,” Jasper said. His voice took a haughty turn, and he grabbed Buchanan’s shoulders. Spinning him to face him, Jasper began to feel the boy’s torso and arms, his fingers digging into his flesh through the thin covering of his blouse as he examined him. He didn’t as much as blink as Buchanan gasped out in pain, shying from his touch as much as he could. “You honestly believe that his behavior is the result of anything but blunt trauma? This boy has been beaten!”

A murmur of shock overtook the crowd, as people around them cast hateful looks towards Steve. The people backed away, giving him a wide berth as if he were a monster, but Steve gave them no mind. All he could focus on was his One, watching him cower under Jasper’s touch, and pained by his examination. “Let him go! I did not beat him!”

“That’s completely preposterous, Steve would never do such a thing!” Arnold spoke up. He approached Jasper and Buchanan, pressing his hand to the boy’s back to comfort him. “This is a relationship of pure love. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. This Pet is devoted to his Master, and this Master loves his One. I have never seen a coupling more perfect in my life!”

Jasper’s eyes narrowed at Arnold. Reaching out, he harshly grabbed his arm and pushed the man back. “Keep your hands off this Consort, he does not belong to you! He is going back to the custody of the Union, where he will receive proper care from this moment forward. Men, keep that monster away from this boy. Take him out of my sight!”

“ _No!_ ” Buchanan shouted. Grief filled him visibly as he broke into sobs right then and there. With desperation in his eyes, he grabbed Jasper’s arm, begging him openly to spare the two of them from this terrible ordeal. “Please! Do not take me away, Master did no hurt me! He only loves! Please, I _beg you!_ ”

Jasper hesitated. Looking up at Steve, his eyes narrowed into anger, and he huffed through his nose. “This is a worse case than I thought. The man has poisoned the Pet. Abuse is not love, Buchanan. Your upbringing should have taught you that.” He paused, his eyes roaming over Buchanan’s torso. “If you are not abused, why do you limp? Why does it pain you to be touched? Remove your clothes and prove to us that your so-called Master is good to you.”

Buchanan froze. For a moment, his teary eyes stayed on Jasper, before he slowly met the eyes in the crowd. The number of people around them had grown, leaving nothing but an endless sea of eyes locked on the Pet. He shrank back, shaking his head as fresh tears ran down his cheeks and he clutched his arms around himself as if to hide from their judgemental gazes. “No... do not make me. Do not make me please...”

Steve watched, his face flushed hot with anger. How dare this Officer humiliate his Pet in front of the crowd?! Forcing him to strip in front of these people… it was cruelty in the highest form! “Mister Sitwell. Don’t do this,” Steve said, his voice low and dangerous. “He does not like to be exposed in front of others. If you force him, I’ll see to it the Union hears of this travesty!”

“Still your tongue, Captain, and don’t tell me my work!” Jasper snapped. Glaring at Steve, he rounded on him, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. “If I see even a single bruise on this boy’s body, you will never see him again. You mark my words.” Turning to Buchanan, Jasper pointed. “Fine. Remove _only_ your blouse, Pet. Do it now!”

Buchanan flinched, whimpering audibly. His figure trembled viciously as he ducked his head from Jasper. But to Steve’s dismay, he watched as the teen slowly reached down, grabbing hold of the bottom of his shirt and exposed himself to the crowd. He flinched at the tension in his tired muscles as he worked the cloth from his body, the thin material fluttering as he dropped his arms to his sides.

A gasp rose up from the crowd. “Look at his back!” one woman said, her voice laced with fright. All at once, the rumble of mutterings took hold of the crowd again, several men barking vicious words at Steve for harming his beloved, beautiful One in such a way. Then and there, Steve knew what they saw; the scabs and contusions on Buchanan’s shoulder and elbow had been spotted, dark and distinct against his smooth skin. The color drained from Steve’s face as he watched Jasper spin his Pet about and look to his back.

“Scrapes! Cuts! Bruises! _Clear signs of abuse_!” Jasper cried. “How does one receive such injuries if not by a violent hand? I stand by my declaration; you, sir, have abused this Pet and are unfit to care for a Consort!”

“ _I did not hurt him!_ ” Steve fought back, his voice strained with desperation. “He fell in the stables of my home! There is no abuse between us, I swear on my soul, Mister Sitwell!”

“A likely story! And what would a Consort have any business, doing in the stables of your home? Perhaps you force him to clean your horse’s stall for you? Was he injured performing manual labor, a _clear_ violation of your contract, Captain?” Turning to his men, Jasper motioned quickly, and one stepped forward. “Take this boy to the Union Hall. See to it that he’s given proper medical treatment, and secure him a comfortable room. He’ll be checked back into the logs of the Union and put back on the market for a more suitable Master. As for the Captain, make sure the authorities are alerted to his crime. Under the decree of the Union, he will never purchase another Consort again as long as he lives. Take the boy away now!”

“No!” Buchanan sobbed. Wrenching from Jasper’s grip, he darted forward, throwing himself into Steve’s arms as he clinged to him desperately. “Master, please! Do not let them take me! _Zashchiti menya! **Zashchiti menya!’**_

Steve’s soul broke as he clutched his boy to his body. Hearing him pleading so desperately and sobbing into his chest… it was the worst kind of pain he had ever experienced in his life. He shook his head, looking up to see the workers approaching them, and his heart plummeted to his stomach.

This was all so wrong. How could they believe he would do something so heinous to his Pet, the love of his life? How could everyone around them viewed him as a beast, abusive and vile? He wanted nothing more than to prove them all wrong. God, even seeing the way Buchanan held him, begging not to leave his side, should have been proof of his innocence.

But it was not enough. And the more he fought against the Officer, the worse he was making it for both of them. If he continued to fight them, they would certainly see to it that he never saw Buchanan again.

With guilt and regret heavy in his heart, Steve showered gentle kisses to his boy’s crown, inhaling his scent one last time. He felt physically ill as the workers pulled Buchanan from his grip, grief washing over him as he watched his boy fight and weep to be let go, to be allowed to return to the safety of his loving Master. As the workers callously took Buchanan away from him and sealing the fate of their separation, a fire renewed in his heart. “I will get him back,” Steve growled. Tearing his eyes from his crying Pet, Steve leveled the officer with a gaze so fierce, the wrath of Hell could not compare. “Know this, I _will_ get him back from your slimy hands, Sitwell!”

Jasper smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not if I have anything to say about it, Rogers. You had best go home and get your affairs in order. The authorities will be at your doorstep with documents removing Buchanan from your ownership. And perhaps a carriage to let you cool your violence in prison for a time. If you’re lucky… losing Buchanan is all the punishment you will receive.”

“Right to appeal!” a voice cut in, echoing over the eerily quiet hall. All eyes turned to the source of the interjection, a rumble of confusion permeating the air. Even the Union workers escorting Buchanan out of the hall stopped at the sound of that voice. Tearing his venomous gaze from Jasper, Steve spotted to his great relief, the sight of Tony watching the ordeal with utter disgust. Ignoring the questioning looks thrown his way, Tony threaded his way through the throng, approaching Jasper with a haughty look upon his face. “The Captain has a right to appeal. You dare to throw these accusations about, then he has the right to stand up and defend his side of the situation to the Union.”

“The Union has no obligation to accept an appeal from Captain Rogers when they have blatant proof of harm,” Jasper retorted. Pointing to Buchanan, Jasper seethed. “He has scrapes and bruises on his back. He failed my examination. Even you, in your drunken state, cannot deny the wounds you see on his flesh.”

Turning, Tony cast the boy an unamused look, before feigning a yawn. “Did the boy report the wounds to you? Or did you humiliate him and callously strip him of his shirt in front of an audience to make a point?” At his question, Jasper went silent, and the crowd about them stirred with Tony’s questioning. “My dear man, any able bodied individual would flinch at the examination you gave the poor lad. Digging your fingers into his arms like that? I’m sure that had to hurt on its own on some degree. If I may refresh your memory…” Tony paused, clearing his throat for dramatic effect. “Article 5, lines 7 through 9: In the event of suspected abuse, the Union has legal right to _gentle_ examination and intervention in the event of injury, should it spare the Consort further harm. In such case, the Consort is taken to a local Union hall for safe keeping. At that time, the accused Master is granted the Right to Appeal all charges if he or she believes themselves to be without fault, _unless the Consort has explicitly reported the abuse firsthand to appropriate Union Officers._ ”

Tony huffed, brushing his hand along his bearded jaw before flashing Jasper a challenging glare. “The Captain may not be as experienced as I, but I can assure you I’ve done my reading on the legal aspects of owning a Consort.” Turning his back on Jasper, Tony approached Buchanan, his hands folded patiently behind his back. “Very well then, since there seems to be only one person in this God-forsaken place that knows the law, I’ll ask him myself.”

With that, Tony stopped in front of Buchanan; although he did not pull him from the worker’s hands, he did capture the teen’s attention on himself, his gaze as comforting as possible. “Listen very carefully: did you, Buchanan, report being physically abused by Captain Rogers to the Union?” When Buchanan shook his head vehemently, Tony continued. “Do you, Buchanan, feel that your life and safety are at risk under Captain Roger’s care and affection?” Again, Buchanan shook his head. “Finally, do you feel that the injury you received was at the fault of chance, and your Master has done what he can to tend to your wounds?” When Buchanan nodded to confirm his words, Tony smiled. “Very good then! Now that that’s settled, I think you have an appeal to schedule, Mister Sitwell.”

“Mr. Stark, you’re overstepping your boundaries,” Jasper began. However, before he could continue, Tony turned back to him, crossing his hands behind his back and flashing him a smirk.

“Not at all, Mr. Sitwell. Just reminding you of your work’s rules, that’s all. Considering, it seems, that you’ve forgotten one very important clause in the contracts you yourself helped to write.”

Steve witnessed the exchange, his heart throbbing in his throat. He didn’t quite know what Tony was thinking, irking on the Officer like this, but he prayed to God above that whatever he had in mind would work. He couldn’t bear the sight of Buchanan cowering under the gruff workers’ hands as they held him back in the crowd. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he followed Tony’s gaze to Jasper, only to be shocked at what he saw.

Unlike the earlier, haughty pride that lit the bald man’s features, his eyes were cast with doubt and frustration. He watched as Jasper opened his mouth, his words dying on his tongue, again, and again, before he finally gave up. Whatever argument he seemed to harbor against Tony’s reasoning didn’t hold up, and his shoulders slumped as he gave up at last.

“Fine,” Jasper gritted out. Turning and glaring at Steve, he approached the Captain, practically nose to nose with him as he growled out his reply. “ _Fine_. Right to appeal it is then. Since I, legally, cannot withhold the boy from you without a proper hearing, I suppose we’ll have to extend this process unnecessarily, yes?” Practically spitting in Steve’s face, Jasper turned away from him and marched across the hall. He reached out, swatting the workers’ hands from Buchanan’s shoulders before grabbing the boy and steering him away. “Two weeks, Captain Rogers. Report to the Union hall in two weeks’ time by 9 o’clock sharp Tuesday morning, for your appeal. But know this… you are fighting a fruitless battle. The Union will have this boy back, you mark my words.”

Steve fought back his anger, shoulders tense with the effort. “We will see about that, Sitwell.” Casting his gaze down to his Pet, Steve’s eyes softened at the terrified look on his Consort’s features. “I will get you back, my love. I swear to it.”

Buchanan nodded, his eyes shining brightly. But before he could respond to his Master, Jasper grabbed his arm and pulled him through the crowd, leaving behind a heart-broken Steve in their wake. Buchanan’s whimpers lofted into the air as he was pulled forcibly away from his Master, towards his impending two week absence, and out of the dance hall without another word.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the hall. Steve stood, rooted to the spot as the gravity of this horrid situation fully took hold of him. He felt sick, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces as the reality of his lot became all too clear: it would be two weeks until he even got a chance to see his beloved Pet again. And even then, there was great chance he would not win this appeal and he would lose him for good.

Shaken, Steve stumbled, turning away from his friends as he shoved his way through the shocked crowd towards the doors of the hall. But just before he made his exit, a hand grasped his shoulder, stopping him. He didn’t so much as blink as Tony’s voice cut through the cacophony of the crowd’s talk.

“Captain, are you going to be alright?” he asked. For the first time since his speech, he sounded uncertain, and it took every ounce of willpower to face him. He was met with the genuine worry in Tony’s eyes, and the sight of Thor, Arnold and Michael behind him. Unlike the remainder of the hall, they wore matching expressions of care for his loss, and the sight of their worries made Steve’s throat clench up in pain.

“No. I’m not,” Steve said quietly. Shaking himself out of Tony’s grip, he fought to withhold his temper, the injustice of it all overwhelming him. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

Tony didn’t answer him. Instead, his hand dropped to the side, patting Steve’s arm firmly before finally letting him go. He stepped back, allowing Steve the chance to exit the dance hall, where he slipped into the cool night without his beloved little star on his arm and hailed a carriage.

He was numb to his surroundings as he made the long journey home. Ignoring the chatter of the coachman, Steve simply watched the scenery pass him by. The chill of the late night air seeped into his figure through the layers of his clothing, making him shudder. How he longed to hold his Pet, for the comfort and adoration they both craved. He longed to press his lips to that crown of dark hair and hold his warm body close in his arms to protect him from the injustice of it all. He knew Buchanan would be scared to sleep without him that night. Hell, _Steve_ was scared for his One.

What if this was it? What if he never got to see the boy again? He had promised to make love to him that evening, and christen his beautiful skin with the pleasure he deserved. Buchanan didn’t deserve to sleep alone in a Union dormitory. Buchanan didn’t deserve to be humiliated that evening, in front of onlookers.

Buchanan deserved only the best from his Master’s care, and Steve had failed him.

Steve barely paid attention as he exited the carriage outside his home. He didn’t speak as he entered the house, dropping his inverness to the floor without consideration. When Peggy and Sam approached him, frantic as to why he was without his Pet, Steve could only mutter “The Union took him” before ascending the stairs on stiff legs.

As he entered his suits, locking himself in for the night, he pressed his forehead against the wood of his bedroom door, listening as Peggy pleaded with him to let her help. He couldn’t open the door and face her. He couldn’t bear to show her his face, nor his shame and anger as he grieved the loss of his Pet, be it temporary or long term.

Damn Jasper Sitwell. Damn the Union for their impossibly strict rules! As much as he knew they had been set for the safety of the Consorts, he couldn’t help but feel completely wronged by them. He had only done what he could to please his Pet, and yet his actions had caused the Union to view his care as negligent and violent. It wasn’t right!

Steve was startled from his thoughts by a sound. Shaking himself, he looked down to see Dooley sitting at his feet, looking absolutely devastated at the sight of the Captain alone. The cat meowed mournfully, pawing at Steve’s leg as if to ask him _‘Where is my human? Where is Buchanan?’_ Steve sighed, his fury finally ebbing away to nothing as he dropped down to his knee and patted the grey tabby sadly. “Buchanan’s taking some time away from home, Dooley... I’m sorry.”

Dooley only mewled in response, his ears folded backwards before he departed Steve’s side and leaped up onto the bed to nest on Buchanan’s pillow. Exhausted and pained by his own loss, Steve followed after the cat’s example and turned for the bed, slowly peeling himself out of his clothing to crawl into bed and never move again. However, as he reached into his coat to withdraw his gloves and put them away properly, he felt something flutter out of his pocket and down to the floor below. Surprised at the motion Steve looked down, only to spot a piece of paper lying at his feet.

“What on Earth?” he asked himself. He didn’t remember putting paper in his pocket earlier that evening. Bending down, he plucked the paper up and turned it over. Immediately he spotted Tony’s handwriting scrawled across the sheet, his penmanship scrawling in graceful loops over the paper.

Steve read the note. Then he read it again, his eyes widening. Gasping out loud, he dropped down, sitting beside the bed as he stared at the paper in his fingers. A faint hope grew in his chest at Tony’s words, and he looked up at the ceiling, his smile forming for the first time in hours. “Tony, I’ll owe you my soul by the end of this summer… I swear to God.” he said with a tired laugh. Rubbing his hand across his bearded jaw, he read the note once more, emboldened with the words that etched into the paper:

_“Report immediately to the telegraph office and send a message to the Union hall in Dublin. Tell them you require only their finest Advocates to represent your appeal in two weeks time. You will get your boy back, I promise you._

_Nelson and Murdock never lose a case.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* ahhh my gaaaaaddd, Matt and Foggy are coming to the party!!!! Can't wait to see them in the next chapter!!!!


	9. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve endures the trial that would decide the fate of the Captain and his beloved Pet. Buchanan's heart, squandered in the pain of separation, rests solely in the decision of the Union.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have many notes for this chapter, except, YAY finally got this story updated, and I didn't take half a year to do it! 
> 
> This story is starting to get into the real plot, finally, and oh boy does Steve have his work cut out for him! But don't worry, the Avocados at Law, will make it all better!
> 
> .... or WILL they? Guess you'll have to read the chapter to find out ;)

Steve bounced his foot on the ancient wooden floor. It was a nervous action, he understood, but he just could not stop himself from fidgeting. The noise of the Union Hall around him preyed on his already anxious thoughts, driving him mad as he waited impatiently for the Union judge to call him for his hearing. He did his best to keep his head held high, masking his worries with an air of authority, but the weight of this day was as heavy on his head as the stormy clouds that hung low over the town that day. How fitting that such a dire occasion would be met with the dreariness of rainfall, dampening the mood of everyone that had attended the court to see what would become of the handsome captain that had been so shamed.

It had been two long weeks since the untimely accusations of one, Jasper Sitwell, were cast upon him branding him a vile beast to the eyes of the public; two weeks of sleepless nights, terrible dreams, and side-eyed looks from those that passed him on the street. It seemed that word of his supposed abuse of a Consort had taken the whole of Paddington by storm, and those who saw the tall, handsome man only saw a monster that could so callously abuse such a pretty little Consort without a care in the world. The accusatory looks, the mumbled words of malcontent and the wide berth with which others gave him, finally drove Steve to shut himself away. He barely ate, nor did he venture much outside his home during that time period unless it was absolutely necessary. The guilt and resentment of seeing other Masters looking so happy with their own Pets only served to anger him further, and he dared not risk losing his temper in public from the sheer injustice of it all. The last thing he needed was to fuel the rumors that spread about him.

Anger welled up in Steve, quickly replacing his anxiety, and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. He would be _damned_ if he lost this case! There was not a chance on Earth that Steve would allow himself to be branded a villain, when he wanted nothing more than to sprinkle the faintest of kisses into smooth skin. How was it possible that a few words could change the outlook of so many people, when it had been so clear that the love he shared with Buchanan was true?

At his side, Peggy sat with him, her fingers resting on his thigh. She had, wisely, left Angela at their home for the duration of this case. The stress of a trial would not sit well with the young girl, and the last thing the married couple needed was to agitate a second Consort. This thought was, of course, with the hope that Buchanan would be returning home with both of them that day. It simply could go no other way, if Steve’s very soul were to finally find its peace again.

“Steven… look.” Peggy’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Steve raised his head. Looking to where his wife gazed, he spotted the svelte figure of Natalia cutting through the throngs of people. She wore a dark blue spencer over a billowing dress stained a crimson red, making her look as dangerous as the fire that burned in her eyes. At her side, Barton marched quietly, his head bowed and his collar exposed on his bare throat. For the first time since they had met, Steve saw the older Consort shirtless, his physique strong and his shoulders wide. He wasn’t much taller than Buchanan was… in fact, Steve ventured to say his own Pet had the advantage of height. But seeing Barton looking the way he did- built and strong for such a comfortable lifestyle he lived- that only angered him further. How was it that his own Pet was not allowed to seek out the health that other male Consorts sported? Why was he, himself, singled out so readily at that party two weeks prior and accused of abuse when other Masters and Mistresses had been blessed with the same freedom to let their Pets choose their health? None of it made sense!

“Captain,” Natalia’s voice cut in. He looked up to see the woman giving him a sorrowful look, and his stomach clenched at her expression. “You haven’t the faintest idea how happy I am to see you here…”

“Natalia.” Rising to his feet, Steve offered her a short bow before his eyes cast to his wife, wondering if she could decipher what it was that irked the lady before him. “I would never, in a thousand years, hope to miss out on this hearing. To see Bucky’s face again…”

“Yes, about Bucky,” Natalia cut in. She shifted, wringing her hands slightly in front of herself before looking up at him. “I’ve had to monitor him, personally, over these past two weeks. As I was the one that sold him to you, it is my duty to watch him and ensure he was healed properly. He’s not well, Steve. Ever since they took him away from you, his behavior is fevered with sorrow. The boy has not eaten in days. I finally had to room him with Barton, to see if close company would help.”

Steve listened, his heart hammering with dismay. To hear that his precious boy was so ill with sadness only sickened him further, and his throat tightened painfully. “Did it help? Has he improved?”

Natalia gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. “The most that Barton could accomplish was getting the boy to sleep beside him. I personally witnessed Buchanan lay his head in Barton’s lap for hours, unmoving. You _have_ to win this appeal, Captain. If they take him away for good, I fear it will kill him.”

Steve nodded, his earlier worry of his Pet’s health confirmed by the only friend he had within the Union. This was worse than he had feared… of course Buchanan had taken this with such difficulty. After being rejected by one Master, how else might he have reacted, being taken away from a second? His already fragile confidence surely had been shattered by it all!  His boy needed him… bloody hell, he needed to pledge to his love that all would be well, and here he sat, waiting for the damn judge to finalize his decision and seal their fate! “I will, Natalia. You have my word that I refuse to lose this case,” he said, his voice colored with his conviction.

Before he could speak further, a voice caught their attention. All three looked up to see the bailiff of the Union court motioning to them, his hands folded behind his back and his dusty jacket pulled tightly over a large belly. “Captain, the court is ready for you.”

Steve nodded, plucking his hat from the chair where he had lain it. Helping his wife to his feet, he followed Natalia and Barton into the room, bowing his head to hide his irate gaze from the court. The room was not unlike the standard court houses of London, though it was a bit smaller. At the head of the room stood the judge’s bench, the platform paneled in dark wood and within the room, rows of wooden benches lined the walls were used by other Union officials to witness the proceedings of each case. Steve knew the rules of the Union’s court were different than that of the standard court. There would be only room enough for a very small audience to witness his case, and the majority of the trial would consist of the judge simply analyzing Steve and Buchanan and deeming whether or not the accusations were true or not. Steve had never been more grateful for the opportunity to request the representation Tony had suggested to him.

Swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat, Steve nodded to his wife, who pressed a kiss to his cheek in good luck, before taking her place in the narrow benches. Steve watched her go, before steeling himself for a long, painful analysis. However, before he could follow Natalia to the floor, he spotted movement outside the room and looked up in time to see Tony slip into the room, his coat billowing behind him in an air of authority. “Tony! What on Earth are you doing here?” Steve asked.

“A man cannot simply show up to support his friend in his time of need? I must say, this is a troubling age we live in, these days,” Tony said, haughtily. Crossing the room, he reached out, clapping his hands on Steve’s shoulders before giving him a confident look. “Do try to relax, you’re as stiff as stone, my friend.”

“I must apologize, but this is not simply an occasion where one can easily relax, Stark,” Steve said. Even still, he couldn’t help but smile at him, grateful for his support. Reaching out, he clapped his hand on Tony’s shoulder in return, the two of them sharing an amicable moment of silence. “Thank you, Tony. You haven’t a clue how much this means to me, my friend.”

“It is no trouble, Steven. I know you would do the same for me.”

Their moment was broken at the sound of the ancient wooden door creaking open once more. Both Tony and Steve looked up, only to spot two Union Officers enter the room, led by none other than Jasper Sitwell, and between the two lower class Officers, stood Buchanan. Steve’s heart cracked in two at the sight of the boy. He was sallow, almost as sickly as death, his eyes hooded and ringed in exhaustion. His hair, previously wild and healthy looking, was nearly limp, and his shoulders were slumped as he walked, looking ready to collapse at any moment. Most troubling of all, was the distinct lack of his collar. The boy’s throat was as bare as his torso, looking downright improper in the captain’s eyes. “Oh my God...”

His voice caught the boy’s attention and his eyes snapped up at the sound of Steve’s call. It took him only a second to realize that what he was looking at was not a mirage, and a strangled cry escaped him. “M-Master!” Buchanan wailed. With sudden, violent strength, Buchanan tore himself out of the Union worker’s grips, running across the room as quickly as he could. Without a second thought, he threw himself into Steve’s grasp, his arms wrapped around him in a vice-like grip.

“My love, my God!” Steve gasped. Clinging tightly to him, he cupped the boy’s head in his palm, pressing kisses to his crown. “My _Zvezda_ , I’m so sorry... I’m sorry I was not there for you!”

“T-they took my collar,” Buchanan whimpered. His fingers dug into the back of Steve’s jacket, clinging desperately to the man as he visibly cringed at the thought. “My collar… is gone. They tell me nothing of you, and I-I… oh _please_ , Master, do not let them take me away!”

“Love, I will do whatever I can. I am so sorry… why did you not eat?” Steve asked. Pulling back, he gave his Pet a pained look, brushing his thumb over a cheekbone. He could feel the difference those two weeks had made as his bones were sharper beneath the skin, nearly gaunt looking in the dim lighting around them. “Bucky… my darling, I am so, so sorry!”

“Captain that is enough! The boy belongs to the Union,” Sitwell’s voice boomed over the room. Steve felt Buchanan flinch in his grip, and he looked up to see the man stalking towards them, his expression pulled in a hideous frown. “Let that Consort go! Abusers have no right to this kind of behavior!”

Steve watched Sitwell, his sorrow quickly turning to rage at his words. His grip tightened on his Pet’s waist, giving Sitwell a defiant look. “Can you not see the boy is scared? You have all made him sick! Allow him this moment of comfort!”

“Enough!” thundered a third voice. Both Steve and Sitwell looked up to see the Union’s judge enter the room, his expression harsh as he stared at both Officer and captain with outright disgust. “This behavior will get you nowhere, Captain Rogers. If you wish to try your hand at earning the boy back, you will let him go and take your place on the floor, this instant!”

Steve swallowed. Sitwell might not have intimidated him any longer, but he was at the mercy of the judge’s decision. He had no choice but to listen if he wished to prove that he was the law-abiding Master that he was. So with much regret, Steve gingerly let the boy go, watching as the officers grabbed him in an instant and guided him to the judge’s bench.

Buchanan whimpered as if he had been manhandled with ferocity. He kept his head ducked as he was guided to the judge’s side and placed in a small observation box. He quietly took a seat on the plush chair, separated from the room by a half-wall in front of him. There, he was left alone, visibly terrified of what outcome could befall the both of them as he sat under the watchful gaze of the elderly man at his left.

It was so wrong… all of this! The callous glances from the judge cast in his direction, the mutterings of castigation as the audience behind him spoke amongst themselves… the haughty, victorious glee that colored Sitwell’s expression as he stood by, ready to take his One away for good. But worst of all, it was the fear he saw in his beloved’s eyes that set Steve off. He couldn’t bear to see him looking pained in his presence, when he’d already suffered so needlessly. So he did the only thing he could do in such a situation. Steve offered him a calming look, promising him wordlessly that all would be well, before taking his place in the very center of the room to face the crime shackled to his reputation.

The room fell silent at long last. Steve remained still, watching as the bailiff circled the hall once more, speaking to the patrons within to discern their purpose for witnessing this trial. A few citizens, with seemingly no real purpose for attending, were quietly asked to leave, but to Steve’s surprise, no one stepped forward to claim their representation of the defendant that morning. Watching the portly man cross the room finally, and secure the door before signaling the trial was ready to begin, Steve cast a look to Tony, silently asking him where in Heaven’s name Nelson and Murdock were, before raising his voice. “Your Excellence,” he said, loud enough for the room to hear. When the judge looked to him impatiently, Steve spoke again. “I don’t mean to pry, but I requested representation for this trial. Has anyone stepped forward to claim such a thing this day?”

“Captain, there is no representation to be had in this courtroom,” The judge said. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed at the Captain before smirking. “No man has claimed their affiliation with you, I’m afraid. If you are suddenly in need of an Advocate, you should have spoke up long before now.”

Steve listened, his eyes widening. But… it couldn’t be! He’d received word from Nelson and Murdock nearly a week prior that they would be present during the trial! “Your Excellence, there seems to be a mistake. Nelson and Murdock personally wrote back to me after my request and stated that they would be here! Surely, the Union must know of this transaction here.”

“No, Captain, the Union has no record of Advocates being requested for this trial,” the judge said, impatiently. “Now, can we please begin? Your dawdling will not delay judgement any further.”

“But that’s impossible,” Steve said, panicking for the first time since this whole ordeal began. “There must have been a mistake. I know that they said they would be here!”

Murmured voices overtook the court, and the judge leveled the captain with a seething rage at his insolence. However, just before the judge could respond, the ancient door creaked once again, and all eyes darted to the entrance of the newcomers. Steve saw Natalia rise from her chair and approach the two men that entered, speaking to them in low tones. One man was rotund and cheerful looking, his hair pulled back into a tie at the nape of his neck. The other, Steve noted with surprise, followed after his companion his hand on his elbow as he walked. The thump of a wooden cane echoed across the room, and Steve’s surprise only grew as he recognized the brunet that followed after his business partner was completely blind.

“Forgive us for being late!” The larger of the two spoke. His voice was confident, and bore not a shred of the brogue Steve expected to hear from a man that resided in Dublin. In fact, he sounded just as Steve remembered the inhabitants of New York did, and he realized he was in fine company. Natalia stood behind them, her gaze finding Steve’s before she smiled, her visible confidence relaxing his worries. “Our deepest apologies, Your Excellence, it seems my companion had needed the time to finish preparing himself for this trial. Unfortunately, it seems, he’d left his sight behind in Dublin, so I had to find where it was he’d disappeared to and lead him thusly.”

The courtroom echoed with the sound of uncomfortable laughter at the jest, and the judge cleared his throat, his eyes casting over the speaker’s blind companion. “Yes, well… state your names and business in this courtroom so that we may begin.”

“Of course, Your Excellence,” the brunet spoke up. He stepped forward, tapping the cane on the floor to get his bearings before turning to the bench. “My companion speaks out of turn. We are Matthew Murdock and Franklin Nelson. We are Advocates of the Union of Dublin, and are here on business representing our client, Captain Steven Rogers.”

The judge listened, his gaze turning mistrustful before darting to Steve for just a moment, waving his hand dismissively. “Very well. Take your places, gentlemen, we have work to do. Mr. Koenig, please seat the audience, and secure the room.”

“Thank you, Your Excellence,” Franklin spoke up. He extended his elbow to Matthew, allowing his friend to take his arm. With that, the two crossed the room and stood to Steve’s left, before Franklin gestured to the tiny crowd behind them. As he did, a woman with golden hair rose from her seat, approaching the two of them. In her hands, she bore a stack of papers, passing them off to Franklin before bowing to the judge and returning to her seat. “It’s a good thing we’ve brought our assistant with us. Sad to say, Miss Page was the only one readily prepared for this affair. But do begin, Your Excellence. I think we shall have this whole misunderstanding cleared up in no time.”

“Misunderstanding?” Sitwell spoke up. His voice was tinged with seething, and he turned his gaze to Steve instantly. “There is no misunderstanding to be had! Captain Rogers has been rightly accused of abusing this Consort, and there will be no other outcome but his subsequent removal from his hands!”

“Officer, hold your tongue,” The judge spoke up. He pointed at Sitwell, his eyes narrowing. “I will be the one to decide the boy’s fate. Your job is complete, bringing up the concern to the Union, and there is nothing more you need to input at this moment. Now be silent.”

Steve listened, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from speaking. He wanted, most terribly, to laugh at Sitwell’s expression, but wisely kept his peace as he waited for the judging to begin. At his side, Matthew cleared his throat, gesturing to Franklin. “Foggy, would you do me the honor of reading the files to me? Refresh my memory on what sort of case we’re dealing with.”

Franklin nodded. With a flourish, he pulled the top paper from its bundle and began to read. “On the 21st day of August, Captain Steven Rogers, Master to the Consort Buchanan stands accused of breaking the agreement signed upon the honor of the Union. He is tried for physical abuse of the Consort, who was returned to the safety of Paddington Hall on the eve of August the 7th, the year 1880. The extent of the Consort’s injuries included, but are not limited to, abrasions of the right shoulder and right forearm, bruising of the right elbow, and a stilted gait as a result of muscular injury caused by suspected blunt trauma at the hands of the Captain. Upon his receipt into the medical halls of the Union, Buchanan was discovered to suffer from infection that took hold of his injuries. The infection was contracted shortly after the injuries were delivered, as believed.”

Steve listened, his eyes darting to Franklin as he read the document with little care in the world. A panic overtook him at the realization that his Pet’s wounds had been more grievous than he thought, and all the confidence he had that he would win this trial, dissipated in an instant. An infection was almost always a sure sign of neglect, and if Buchanan had suffered thusly, then there was easy suspicion that the court would see it as such and proceed with his recanting. Swallowing thickly, Steve felt his fear begin to overtake him, his figure trembling with nerves as he ducked his gaze from the court to hide his sorrow. However, before he could rightly lose his mind, he felt a hand on his elbow and he looked down to see Matthew touching his arm in a comforting brush.

“I see. And how were these injuries inflicted,” the judge asked. Turning to Buchanan, he leveled him with an icy look. “Consort. Tell me how it was you came to earn these injuries? Was it by your Master’s hand?”

“N-no!” Buchanan spoke up instantly. He turned in his seat, offering the old man a frightened look. “It was not by Master’s hand! I fell in stable. Master did everything to help mel. He did no harm to me!”

“And what, pray tell, were you doing in the stable?” the judge asked, his tone hardening. “It is no place for a Consort to be. Were you forced to work around the horses?”

“No,” Buchanan said. His gaze darted to Steve for a second, and he hesitated, as if he were unsure if he should tell them.

Upon his hesitation, Franklin stepped forward, his gaze soft as he offered the young Pet a smile. “Buchanan. The more you can tell us, the better your chances of returning home with your Master. I can see you are terrified… can you not see that, Your Excellence?” he asked, gesturing. “He is frightened of leaving his Master.”

“That is clearly not substantial evidence, Advocate,” the judge said, his tone cold. “He could be coerced into behaving as such. Now… question the boy so that we may move on, please.”

Franklin nodded, folding his hands behind his back. He paced the floor, just in front of Buchanan before turning to face him. “Buchanan. What were you doing in the stable? Please, for your sake, be honest with us.”

Buchanan listened to him, his eyes misty. “I was… in stables because Master was teaching me physical training. It was most suitable place in our home to do so.”

“Physical training?” Franklin asked. “Why were you physically training your body? Did Captain Rogers force you to do so?”

“No. I asked Master to teach me,” Buchanan said. Looking up at Franklin, he offered him a watery gaze before looking to Steve. The moment their eyes met, Steve felt the utter pain in his boy’s gaze, and he wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and never let him go. “I fell from crossbeam of stable when Master was teaching how to strengthen my stomach.”

“You fell from the crossbeam?!” The judge exclaimed. Instantly, he turned his gaze to Steve, eyes harsh. “What sort of Master allows his Pet to dangle from a bloody crossbeam?! Have you no sense, Captain?!”

“I understand it was my mistake, Your Excellence,” Steve spoke up quickly, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I had tried my best to ensure his safety as much as possible, however he slipped before I could catch him. I blame myself for his injury, alone.”

“As you should. A fool would think that putting his Pet in such a situation would be proper,” The judge spoke angrily.

“Your Excellence, if I may,” Matthew spoke up. “Perhaps we should allow the boy to finish speaking. He has, I can sense, more to say on the subject. Perhaps his tale will help illustrate the situation further.”

The judge narrowed his gaze before he heaved a sigh. “Very well. Mr. Nelson, continue your line of questioning.”

Franklin nodded, taking the permission given to him. Turning back to Buchanan, he placed his hands on the rail of the observation box, and offered him a calming smile. “What else happened, Buchanan? There is more to your tale, than you let on.”

Buchanan nodded. “I asked Master to let go of me. Before I fell… Master was holding me, to ensure I would not fall. It is no his fault… is mine. But he… he bandage my wounds and washed me… he comforts me when I am unwell. He is good, Mr. Nelson. He loves me, and would no hurt me. I swear to it.”

“That’s nonsense,” Sitwell spoke up. Looking to the judge for permission to approach the observation box, he crossed the room in two strides, all but shoving Franklin out of the way to meet face to face with Buchanan. “If he loves you, why then, were you so physically pained? If you fell and injured your arm, why is it your legs and torso were injured as well? Did he beat you? Has he coerced you into lying to protect his reputation?”

“No!” Buchanan exclaimed. “He no force me to say anything! I speak only truth!”

“Officer Sitwell, you mock your own intelligence,” Franklin spoke up. “The boy is clearly speaking words from the heart. Physically training the body, requires the exertion of muscle. It sounds as if he was simply sore from training, rather than receiving injury from another. It is normal for the body to grow tired before it strengthens itself. Though, I can say, you and I both haven’t the faintest idea what that experience is like, am I right?”

More laughter filled the courtroom as Franklin spoke. Sitwell offered him a glare before turning away and leveling that hateful look on Steve a moment. Steve could only listened, entranced with the ease in which Franklin commanded the courtroom around them. Even the judge seemed intrigued by his statement, his earlier anger dissipating into thoughtfulness. For the first time since the trial began, Steve felt a swell of hope in his chest that perhaps this would all end well.

Franklin nodded, watching as Sitwell returned to his seat with utterance of fury at his counter argument. Looking back to the boy, Steve caught sight of the Advocate offering the Consort a reassuring wink before turning to the judge. “I have no further questions for him, Your Excellence. However, I do request an examination? I would, very much, like to see for myself if there are signs of abuse that can be readily presented as evidence.”

“I allow it,” the judge said, waving for Mr. Koenig to release Buchanan from the observation box. “Mr. Murdock, you have been terribly quiet. Have you anything to weigh in on this trial?”

Matthew nodded. Turning away from where Franklin was carefully cataloguing the boy’s appearance, he faced Steve head on. His eyes, blind to the world around him, lingered on Steve’s chest for a moment, and the captain felt himself shifting in discomfort at the gaze. He knew, logically, that Matthew could not see him, but it still didn’t change the fact that he’d never felt such scrutiny from another person. “Captain Rogers… I want you to speak, from the very bottom of your heart. Have you ever, in any instance, brought harm to your Pet willingly, and with intent?”

Steve listened to the question. As Matthew spoke, his eyes darted over to Buchanan, lingering on the boy as Franklin took his time, checking each and every inch of skin he could. As he watched the Advocate’s hands ghosting over the boy’s torso and limbs, treating him like a glass sculpture, Steve knew that speaking the truth was not enough. He had to prove to them that he loved Buchanan with his very soul. That would not be difficult in the slightest.

“No, sir,” Steve said. His voice, colored with the conviction of his honesty, rose in volume as he spoke. “Never, have I ever intended to bring harm to my beloved Pet. He is too precious, and perfect to even imagine treating him with less than the respect he deserves. Kings and gods are less perfect than he in my eyes. Buchanan is my star and I will do whatever I can to ensure his safety and to vow my heart to him until the end of time.” Looking to Matthew, he spoke, a little louder for the court to hear. “I love the boy, Mr. Murdock. I would walk through fire before willingly causing him harm, or allowing anyone to do the same. You have to believe me, Mr. Murdock… please.”

Matthew listened to him, his expression neutral. He didn’t move for a long moment, simply processing Steve’s words before turning away. He took his cane in hand, tapping the floor lightly as he approached the judge’s bench, where Franklin was just finishing his examination. “Foggy, have you found anything of importance?”

Franklin smiled, dusting his hands on his pant legs before speaking. “Yes, Matthew, only that this trial is contrived with false accusations and drivel for evidence. The boy has not been beaten, nor has he suffered abuse. Heavens’ sake, he’s 18 years old; I would be damn surprised if he never earned a scrape or a bump in his whole life. I, in my expert opinion, believe it would be crueler to separate the two, than it would be to return the boy to the Union on false pretense.”

Matthew nodded. He turned and flashed Steve a small smile at Franklin’s words. Steve couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit disturbed that Matthew could so easily seek him out in this room, though he didn’t take long to dwell on the matter. Instead, he took Franklin’s words and held tightly to them, praying that this whole silly trial would end peacefully.

“Yes, Foggy. That is precisely the thought I had myself,” Matthew spoke. Turning to the judge’s bench, he tapped his cane against the wood in a short staccato. “Your Excellence, this is merely a case of misunderstanding. The boy was not beaten, nor will he ever be beaten by this man. I do applaud your Union for its zealous display of concern for their Consorts, but this is no case worthy of pursuing further. Captain Rogers speaks the truth, as does Buchanan. Surely, a wise man such as yourself, recognizes this?”

The courtroom went silent. Where he stood, Steve watched the judge mull over the words of his representatives, and he held his breath. His gaze landed on Buchanan, watching him carefully as the boy practically squirmed in his spot. The moments crawled by, dancing one after the other into what felt like an eternity before the judge offered up a sigh of defeat. “The Captain speaks the truth. Mr.’s Nelson and Murdock, you have represented your client with justice.” Looking down at his own paperwork, the judge scrawled a quick note, placing the pen back into its inkwell before speaking again. “The charges have been dropped. However, never let it known that a foolish man does not receive his deserved punishment. Captain Rogers might not have lain a hand on his Consort, but he was negligent in his care, thus resulting in injury. As punishment, the captain is sentenced to a tithe of 20% of his home’s income, to the funds of the Union to ensure that a lesson of this nature is learned. Captain, I expect never to hear of you acting so foolishly in the safety of your Pet again, do you understand me?”

“Yes!” Steve said, near hysterical with relief. He nodded, shifting in his spot as the realization of what had happened overtook him. The charges dropped… the Union would not be taking Buchanan away from him. His relief was so profound, he nearly collapsed to the floor as he spoke. “Yes, Your Excellence. It is understood.”

“Very good,” the judge spoke. “Buchanan, you may return to your Master’s side. The trial is complete.”

Buchanan need not be told a second time. Buchanan tore himself from Franklin’s side, leaping into Steve’s arms with a sob of relief, his face buried in the crook of the captain’s neck. “M-master! Oh Master!” he exclaimed, sobbing into his shoulder as he held fast to the captain.

“Shh, my love,” Steve cooed. Cradling the boy close to his chest, he pressed kiss after kiss to his jaw and temple, christening the warm skin he hadn’t felt in two weeks. “Shhh, please don’t cry. We’re going home, I promise you.” To say he was relieved, was a vast understatement. Here, at last in his arms was his precious Pet, his shining star, after coming so close to losing him forever. His poor boy, sickened by separation, was trembling in his grip, his legs wrapped around his waist as if begging to be carried. Bloody hell, Steve wouldn’t _hesitate_ to do just that. After coming so close to losing him, Steve would never, in a thousand years, ever allow something so terrible to happen to his beloved ever again, even if it meant carrying him the rest of their days.

As he held the boy fast, Steve heard motion from the bench, and he looked up. There, the judge stood and motioned to Sitwell before vacating his seat. “Fetch the boy his collar and return it to him. See to it that the captain and his Pet are escorted out of here. I must be off to another hearing now. I trust that you will see to it they are safely returned home at this time?”

“Yes, Your Excellence,” Sitwell spoke. As he did, his eyes never strayed from Steve, the look of raw fury burning brightly in his eyes as he approached him. The moment he was far enough from the judge so as not to be heard, he leaned in and spoke in low tones. “I know your tricks, Captain. I will see to it that this boy is taken from you soon enough. You mark my words.”

Steve listened to him, his expression hardened into defiance. In his arms, he felt Buchanan shifting, and looked down to see the boy giving Sitwell a terrified look. “There’s no need to panic, my love. Mr. Sitwell doesn’t mean it,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Before Sitwell could respond, though, a third voice piped up over the growing din of the courtroom. “Mr. Sitwell, I believe we’ll take it from here.” Steve blinked, taken by surprise before glancing at the speaker. Behind him, stood Matthew and Franklin, the two wearing matching expressions of victory. Matthew spoke again, his lips quirked into a smile. “Do go fetch Buchanan his collar. Allow us to escort the Captain and his Pet home. After all, surely you must have duties you need to attend to this day?”

“Quite,” Sitwell growled. Without a word, he turned away and stalked to the bench, retrieving the box that one of his associates had brought with them. Inside, he withdrew the collar, carelessly tossing the delicate piece into Steve’s open hand before turning and leaving the room in a flurry of anger.

Steve barely caught the collar, his grip on Buchanan tenuous as he struggled to keep the chains from hitting the floor. Looking down, he noted with dismay that all the links had been tangled from the rough treatment, and he looked to the door Sitwell had disappeared through with fury. “The bastard…”

At his side, Franklin reached out, touching his arm to garner his attention. “Captain, we should leave. I’m sure you and your beloved have a lot of time to make up since your long absence? We’d be delighted to guide you home, safely.”

Steve nodded, touched by their care. “I thank you sirs, but we have our own escort home. We wouldn’t want to hinder you from your work any longer than necessary.”

“It’s no trouble, but if you wish your privacy, we’ll give it,” Matthew spoke up. Gesturing to the court, he caught Miss Page’s attention, before speaking again. “At the very least, allow us to walk you and your loved ones out. There is something we wish to discuss with you.”

Steve accepted the offer, turning to his wife and friend. Instantly, the two rose, their expressions matching his of sheer relief as they flanked Master and Pet readily. Steve never once moved to put Buchanan down; he didn’t rightly care if he looked foolish, carrying his Pet from the Union hall. He would be damned if he allowed him out of his grasp for a moment longer.

With that, the group vacated the court room, followed closely by Natalia and Barton as the two took up the back of their little train out of there. By the time the group had exited the Union hall, the sun was high in the sky, warming the day with its cheerful rays. It was a smart change to the earlier drear of morning rain, which only reflected the success of this appeal. In his grasp, Steve felt Buchanan shivering, his face still pressed to his neck for comfort, and he patted his back in a gentle touch. “Thank you for seeing us out, gentlemen. What is it you wished to discuss with us?”

Matthew spoke, pulling his arm from Miss Page’s to face him. “Only to offer our services to you. If you are in need of our help in the future, please do not hesitate to contact us. I fear that the Union here wishes to see you two separated, though I can’t for the life of me understand why. I only humbly offer my support, should they decide to approach you again with false accusations.”

Steve nodded, bothered that another Union worker would feel so inclined to believe such a thing. The Union was supposed to be protective of Master and Consort care… to know that, perhaps, the Union wished to separate them for no good reason sat ill with him. “Thank you, Mr. Murdock. I accept your offer. I can only hope I will not have need of it.”

“I can only hope so, too,” Matthew said. Without another word, he turned and left, followed closely by his business partner and their assistant.

Left alone, Steve turned back to his own company, noting their careful gazes as Tony, Peggy, and Natalia hovered protectively over the two of them. “Thank you all… I don’t know if I could have done this without you.”

Peggy spoke up, touching her husband’s elbow gently. “Of course, my dear. Our home is not a home without Buchanan in it. We can only do what we can to ensure he is back safely where he belongs.”

Steve smiled at his wife; never had he been so grateful for her support. He pressed a loving kiss to her forehead before turning and looking to Buchanan. By now, the boy had raised his head from his shoulder, looking just the slightest bit more comfortable than he had since this whole trial had started. “Of course. Do you wish to go home, my love?” When Buchanan nodded to him, he offered him a loving smile and pulled him into a deep kiss. Nipping his lower lip, he elicited a light shiver from his Pet before speaking again. “Then let us be off. We’ll have your favorite meal prepared just for your return. And there will be tea. And you haven’t a clue how much Dooley has missed you, my Star. He’ll be so pleased to see you back...”

* * *

 

Night had crept over the warm landscapes of England. Outside the home, the air was still and filled with the sounds of insects singing their evening tunes, while inside, the inhabitants moved like ghosts throughout the house.

By the fire, Buchanan lay on his favorite cushion, his head pillowed in Angela’s lap as he dozed in front of the fire. In his arms, Dooley lay curled and purring contentedly, and Angela hummed a soft tune, brushing her fingers through his dark hair as she soothed and calmed the youth she held dearly. Aside the fire, Steve sat quietly, observing the two of them as they reconnected after two weeks of separation. He couldn’t help the smile that lit his lips as he watched the two Pets fondly; shortly after the little convoy had returned home, Angela had pulled Buchanan into her arms, like a mother soothing her child, and the two had stayed by the other’s side the majority of the night. Every so often, Buchanan had gotten anxious and sought out his Master’s affections to calm himself down, but for the most part, the evening was still, a comforting reminder of nights just like this before the trial.

As Steve watched the two Pets, he heard his wife enter the room. He looked up, only to see her hand him a glass of brandy, which he took readily, and sipped with a calm hand. Even still, as he watched the quiet scene before him, he couldn’t shake one thought in particular: the Union had foul intentions out for him. But why would they single him out and attempt to falsify such ridiculous claims? Sighing to himself, Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose to quell the ache that wanted to overtake his mind.

“Steve, are you alright?” Peggy asked. When Steve looked up at her, she offered him a small smile. “Why do you seem so bothered? Things are well again. Buchanan is home and the charges dropped. If it is about the fine, you know very well we have the money to accomplish that.”

“It’s not that, Peg,” Steve said quietly. Looking down at Buchanan, he couldn’t help but worry his lower lip between his teeth before speaking again. “It’s just… it makes no sense. Why would the Union think I could lay a hand on Bucky, like that? It’s… it’s madness!”

“The Union has frightful dealings with the black market, dear. You surely can’t fault them for taking extra precautions,” she said, though her tone implied she, too, was uncertain of their motives.

“Even still, it’s not right. Could they not see that their accusations caused him more grief than they hoped to stop?” Steve questioned. Taking another, hearty swallow of the plum-colored liquor, Steve allowed the alcohol to soothe him, and he shook his head. “I suppose it is no matter anymore…”

“You’re right. It is no matter. Bucky is home, everything is well again. Dwelling on it will only prolong the ache of the whole affair, and you don’t want to do that to your beloved,” Peggy said. Rising from where she had seated herself on the arm of his chair, she approached the hallway, disappearing from sight. A moment later, she returned, holding Buchanan’s collar gently in her fingers. When she approached her husband, she offered up the circlet to him, and Steve took the delicate jeweled piece, marveling at how perfect it looked once again, the tangles removed, and the diamonds gleaming brightly in the firelight. However, before Steve to look to his wife and thank her for repairing the collar, Peggy simply shushed him, pressing her finger to his lips before approaching the fireside. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers along the crown of her Pet’s head, taking Angela’s attention from Buchanan. “Angela, my love. Come, let us be off to bed. We should allow Master Steve and Buchanan some time together.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Angela said obediently. Smiling, she touched Buchanan’s hair, rousing him from his doze and bidding him goodnight before getting to her feet. With a small nod to Steve, she followed after Peggy as the two of them set off into the house, taking their leave for the night and leaving the two blissfully alone in the study.

Left to their own, Steve and Buchanan fell silent as the boy released the cat to roam the house and climbed from the pillow into Steve’s lap. Steve listened, hearing the shivering puffs of his breath in his ear, and a faint chuckle escaped him. He hesitated not, lifting his hands and gently encircling the collar around his swan-like throat, right where it belonged. When he had the clasp set, he brushed his fingers along the gems, his breath catching in his throat when Buchanan reached up and grasped his fingers, desperate for reassurance that he would be safe again. There, the two of them remained quiet, watching the flickering of flames in the fire pit for a time. It was only when Buchanan offered a faint yawn that Steve broke the stillness around them, his voice low and soothing. “Come, Bucky… let’s go to bed. You’ve had a rough day, my _Zvezda_. You need your rest.”

“Yes, Master,” Buchanan mumbled. Without hesitation, he climbed from Steve’s lap, waiting patiently as the man got to his feet and pulled him into his side. Tucked into each other’s arms, they quietly exited the study and took to the stairs, ascending into the darkened second floor as light on their feet as they could manage. Once they were safely locked away into their bedroom, the air took an uncomfortable turn, as if the two didn’t quite know what to do with the other now that they had arrived.

It was strange, really.... Steve had imagined this reunion, in fitful fantasy as he slept those long nights away waiting for his trial. He imagined pulling Buchanan into his arms, worshipping his bare skin with the praises of his lips. He had wanted to make love to the boy, welcome him back into his arms in only the most proper of ceremony.

But now, with the opportunity finally at his disposal, Steve couldn’t bring himself to do it. Too cruelly, the words of Sitwell and the judge echoed in his mind, reminding him that indeed the Union had much to be concerned about in the care and keeping of Pets. If they had any concern that Steve would be capable of committing such a crime, he was certain that all eyes would be lain upon him for quite some time. The last thing Steve needed to worry about was being caught outright, leaving behind even the faintest of love marks on his boy’s skin. Love marks could easily be mistaken for bruising, and there was no bloody chance in hell that Steve would be accused again of harming his love.

Clearing his throat, Steve offered an uncomfortable look down to his Pet, watching as the boy hesitated, uncertain of where to go next. “B-Bucky… are you feeling well enough to wash? I could… I could draw you a bath to relax you after the trying day you’ve had,” Steve offered.

Buchanan shook his head, his arms wrapped around his waist. “N-no Master… I do not want to bathe,” he said quietly. “I only want to lay with you. Please.”

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump that formed in his throat. “As you wish, my star.” With that, Steve guided his Pet to the bed, setting him down on the mattress. With reverence, he knelt before him, undoing the ties that kept his slippers on and set them to the side. He rose to his feet again, and opened his mouth to urge Buchanan to lay down. However, he was taken off guard by the boy suddenly climbing to his feet, his fingers going to the waist of his muslin pants without delay. “Bucky-”

Buchanan did not hesitate. Without a word, he shucked the pants from his legs, throwing them to the floor. When he was naked, he climbed up onto the bed again, laying back against the pillows as he looked up to his Master with begging in his eyes. “Please… please come to me. Let me feel you inside me, Master. Let me feel safe again!”

Steve watched his boy, listened to his mewling beg as he lay back, fully exposed to him. Almost instantly, his throat tightened with arousal and he found it difficult to swallow. It had been so long since he’d lain with him...but, no! He couldn’t allow himself to do that. Knowing himself, he would lose his control at such an important reunion, and how shameful a Master was he, unable to control himself at the sight of his Pet. But he couldn’t… not now. Not when he had been so recently under the eye of the Union that wished to separate the two. He couldn’t risk it. He could never risk losing his Pet again.

“Buchanan… _Zvezda_ , my dear,” he said. Sitting on the bed, he reached out, touching the boy’s thigh with a gentle hand. “I-I… I cannot. Not now, my love. I wish I could, but…”

Buchanan listened to him, his eyes widening. Almost instantly, tears filled his eyes and he sat up, folding himself inward, his knees tucked to his chest. “You… you not desire me any longer?” he asked, his voice breaking with emotion. “B-but I no understand…”

“What?” Steve said. Looking to his Pet, he realized, too late, what his words meant to him, and he sighed. “Oh my love, _no_. No, not at all! I do desire you, more than you could ever understand. I wish nothing more than to make love to you, but… after what has happened, I fear that in doing so, I will mark your skin and I cannot run the risk of you being taken away again. Do you understand me?”

Buchanan listened, his expression wrought with his tumbling emotions. With an indiscernible noise in his throat, he scooted back against the pillows, away from Steve, and ducked his head. “I do not… Master, I no understand. Why do you think such thing?”

“Because if we played, Bucky, I fear that I will bruise your skin. And if I do that, they may mistake our play for abuse and take you away again,” Steve explained patiently. “You understand, I _cannot_ let that happen. I love you too much to do such a thing. I do desire you, my star. I desire you too much to let anything separate us again.”

Buchanan listened to him, his gaze sorrowful. But, it was with understanding, Steve knew, and the boy relaxed, curling into the pillows with defeat. “Then… we never make love again, Master?” Buchanan asked.

Steve sighed. Looking away from the boy, he cupped his bearded chin in his hand, contemplating the question. After an unbearably long amount of time, he looked back to Buchanan and shook his head. “No, my love. We will, I swear to you. Just… I don’t know…”

Silence fell over the two of them, basking the room in discomfort. From his position on the bed, Steve heard the boy shifting, as if he were uncertain of where he belonged now. However, before he had the opportunity to look up and ascertain what he was doing, he felt hands on his shoulders. Steve looked up, gasping in surprise as he was suddenly pushed to his back, bouncing back on the bedding beneath him. In his surprise, he did not fight back as he watched his Pet climb atop, straddling his waist and pressing his hands to his shoulders to hold him down. “Bucky, wha-”

Buchanan didn’t give him the opportunity to speak. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, capturing his Master in a heady kiss. Nipping sharply, the teen drew his lip into his mouth, suckling the full flesh with intention before leaning back. “No. I do not want to wait. I have been gone two long weeks, Master. I want you to make me feel whole again.”

Steve listened, fighting past the fog in his mind to listen to his Pet’s words. As he lay beneath him, he felt the boy’s hips begin to move, rocking down against his lap in a slow, even roll that drove him to madness beneath him. “Bucky... love, listen-”

“I do no care!” Buchanan said, more insistently. He leaned down, framing Steve’s face with his palms. With a gentle touch, he tilted his head to meet his gaze head-on, his hips never stopping their maddening pace. Steve could feel the line of Buchanan’s cock rubbing against his groin through his trousers, and knew the boy was already burning with desire. “I do no care, Master. Mark me where it is no seen. I can… cannot go a night without you. Please, Master. Please make me yours again!”

Steve listened, fighting not to choke on his own words. Hearing his Pet beg so sweetly for him, pleading to be marked and possessed, only weakened his willpower further. One particular roll of his hips caught the captain off guard, as their lengths rubs together through the sheath of his clothing. It was enough to finally break that tenuous control he had over himself, and he lifted his arms, encompassing them around Buchanan. With a firm hold, he pulled the boy flush to his front, his fingertips digging into his back as he took control of the kiss, just as his beloved wanted.

The moment he felt Buchanan soothed by his Master’s control, Steve acted. Without a thought, he turned, pushing his Pet to the bed, allowing him to stretch out with comfort. Kneeling between Buchanan’s legs, Steve looked down at him, his eyes burning with want as he breathed evenly. No need to lose his head just yet… he had a long way to go to make up for his Pet’s pain.

“Shh, my darling,” Steve murmured. Leaning down, he bridged himself over his torso, smiling down at his beloved with a tenderness reserved only for him. “Hush. I will give you what you desire. You have only but to tell me what it is.”

“Please,” Buchanan whimpered. Reaching up, he brushed his palm across his bearded jaw, allowing Steve to nuzzle into his touch lovingly. “Please, make love to me. Make me beg you. I wish to feel safe in your arms again.”

Steve nodded. Pressing kisses to his Pet’s palm, he looked down at him, descending on him. His lips caressed his brow, peppering over his eyes and down the bridge of his nose before meeting his full lips. The moment they touched, Buchanan reacted, reaching up and pushing his fingers into his hair. He tugged the blond strands, making Steve groan with delight at his actions. Never breaking the kiss, Steve reached down, letting his fingers dance along his love’s side, tickling his ribs, and his hip before his fingers wrapped firmly around the girth of his cock. Feeling the boy’s hips buck under his touch, he moaned at the heavy, warm weight of it in his palm, and gently stroked him, brushing his curled fist over his silken length in a slow, even cadence.

Beneath him, Buchanan whimpered louder still. He went lax against the bed, his hands falling away from Steve’s hair, where he had been busy tousling the blond strands. Looking up at his Master, Buchanan gasped for breath, his body writhing beneath him as his Master drew him to his utmost arousal with that gentle touch. “Oh God...!” he breathed. With little thought, his fingers scrambled for Steve’s front, undoing the clasps of his vest and tearing it from his shoulders as quickly as he could. He wasted no time, and quickly turned his attention to Steve’s shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, until he’d managed to open his shirt entirely to him. He broke the kiss at that moment, looking up at Steve with devotion in his eyes. “Master… please. Don’t make me wait,” he pleaded. As if to emphasize his words, he rolled his hips up into the circle of Steve’s fist, stroking himself along the rough planes of his palm insistently.

Steve listened, struck dumb by the sight of his Pet begging him so sweetly for his love. Without hesitation, Steve leaned back, divesting himself of his shirt and vest, letting them flutter to the floor. He crawled from the bed, and attacked the buckle of his belt, watching as Buchanan went to work, stroking himself to keep his arousal at full attention. He was so taken by the sight of his Pet mewling for attention on the bed, he tripped as he kicked his shoes off and shoved his trousers off his legs, letting them fall to the side as he climbed back up onto the bed.

Allowing himself to fall headfirst into his desires, Steve leaned in, brushing his lips over his One’s collarbones, blessing them with the sweetest of kisses. He pushed him further up the bed as he worked, leaving faint petals of his marks against his skin that would fade quickly. He felt no regret for leaving such a small bruise on Buchanan’s throat, pushing aside his initial worries in favor of christening the olive skin with his love. Beneath him, he felt Buchanan shifting eagerly, a faint moan escaping into the too-quiet room about them as he bucked up, looking for more of his Master’s touch.

“Yes,” Buchanan whimpered. He writhed on the bed, eyes drifting shut as he found his mark, rutting up against Steve’s thigh in a simple, but enticing brush. He shuddered as he met the surface of Steve’s thigh, the skin just barely dusted with fine hairs that tickled the length of his prick with soft strokes. “God, please… Master I do not want to wait! Please take me. Please? I will be so good for you, I swear to it.” He reached up, cupping his hands behind his Master’s neck and tugging him impossibly closer. With just the faintest hint of insistence, Buchanan pulled Steve’s kisses from his throat and impatiently captured the older man’s lips with his own. This time, he was not so gentle as he nipped and sucked, swelling the skin before pressing on, his tongue finding its way into his mouth to taste his sweetness.

Steve hummed, unable to fight the smile that overtook him. He didn’t resist as Buchanan held fast, marking up his Master with all the love he could muster. Instead, he leaned casually, resting on his elbow as he enjoyed the moment, relishing the taste of his boy. The moments passed by, swirling in a sea of passion and love for one another. All sense of the world around them melted away to nothing but silver and golden ripples, washing away the harsh realities in favor of reclaiming what had been so cruelly taken away. As they kissed, their desires only grew, until it became too much for the Captain to bear. With a great effort, he finally broke the kiss, watching as a drop of saliva pooled on his Pet’s skin, wetting it from where the tender spider’s thread of their action had connected their swollen, kiss-bruised lips.

He took the moment to rightfully admire the scene before him, his One breathing with great effort as he tried his best to focus on the man above him. Seeing him laying beneath him, looking so young and fragile and wanting, only drove Steve to act. He climbed off of the boy’s body, the just of his erection hanging heavy between his legs as he grabbed for the nearest bottle of lubrication. The trek across the room was almost too much, and he found himself missing his touch so viciously, he hesitated not as he turned back to his Pet and climbed back onto the bed.

“My love, don’t look so fretful,” he purred into the quiet air. Nipping the shell of Buchanan’s ear, Steve reached down, pressing his fingers in between the cleft of his body, seeking out the heat within. As if he’d been waiting for him, Buchanan’s body gave way instantly, allowing Steve the entrance he desired as his fingers slid inside, spreading him just the tiniest bit. Even without the slick, Buchanan’s body accepted him without complaint, and Steve moaned into the room, savoring the wicked heat that soaked into the skin of his fingers as he spread them.

“ _Nngh!_ ” Buchanan gasped. He rocked back, pressing himself onto his fingers as much as he could manage, before tearing his eyes open to meet his gaze. “ _Pozhaluysta_ … Master… I need you,” he whispered, a broken plea piercing the darkening night around them.

Steve could not resist. Watching, feeling, _experiencing_ it all with reverence and love, he withdrew his fingers, leaving the boy gaping for his touch. He did not pause long. Instead, he blessed his skin with a caress, the stubble of his beard brushing against his jaw as he picked up the bottle of lubricant and spilled the fluid into his palm. Without waiting, and without breaking the kiss, Steve stroked his own cock, wetting it with the slippery fluid before gripping his thigh with a wet grasp. When he felt that he was sufficiently prepared for his love, Steve leaned back, sitting on his heels as he gripped Buchanan’s arms and pulled him to sit up. With a tender look in his eyes, he tugged his beloved into his lap, slotting his cock between his legs and brushing the tip against his entrance with a teasing gesture.

Buchanan understood. Nodding eagerly, he pressed his knees into the bedding on either side of his Master’s hips as he raised himself up, and slowly lowered his body. The pressure that formed right away at that touch was visibly overwhelming as Buchanan cried out, his fingertips dug into the man’s bare back as he sheathed him in velvet, smooth warmth.

The heat was almost too much. Steve swallowed heavily, choking back a whimper of his own as his cock was enveloped totally. As he felt Buchanan’s body passing over him, he tightened his grip on the boy’s hips. With little motions, he thrust up, claiming him for the first time in two long weeks. Like a protective shroud, Buchanan’s body held dearly to him, seeping warmth and love into him as they joined so intimately in this moment. “Bucky… _nnh_ , my star. I missed you so much,” he breathed, pressing his lips to the boy’s forehead in reverence.

Buchanan whimpered, nodding readily as he took in his lover’s words. The sound he uttered broke off, choking into a faint, high whine as he went lax in his arms, leaning heavily into his chest for support. “I love you, Master… _God_ , I love you.”

With that, the two remained steadfast, clinging to one another as if the world were trying at that very moment to tear them both apart. But as much as Steve wanted to savor this closeness, feeling his beloved around him and cherishing the sweetness of his touch, his primal desires could not be staunched. Just the barest brushes of skin against skin, feeling himself imbedded so deeply inside his lover after abstaining for two weeks drove him mad with want, and he fought back the growl of desire that threatened to shatter the beautiful silence around them.

Even still, he could not help himself, as his hands moved to the boy’s hips, supporting him as he withdrew slowly and thrust back inside. The motion was firm and jarred the teen on his lap. He found himself eagerly memorizing the faint cry that left his Pet as he picked up pace, splitting him in two on his lap as his thrusts grew more eager with each passing second.

Buchanan couldn’t stop himself. His voice raised in surprise and pleasure, and he gripped his Master’s shoulders firmly, using his leverage to raise himself enough to allow his lover to work. His lower lip caught between his teeth and he moaned in the back of his throat, looking positively drunk on his touch. “M-master oh, please! More! Mark me!” he begged, tearing his eyes open enough to meet his One’s gaze head on.

Steve nodded, fighting to keep his head about himself. Seeing the boy losing himself quickly to his touch, Steve knew he hadn’t much time left. The distance apart had whittled their control away greatly, and already he could feel himself close to losing his head. With that thought in mind, Steve leaned forward, his lips attacking the boy’s collarbones in rapid succession. As he thrust up into his body, he nipped and sucked the skin there, marking him with tiny bruises and lapping over them with the flat of his tongue readily. He dug his fingertips into his hips, just above where the globes of his cheeks connected to his thighs, and he assisted him to rock more fervently on his cock as they made love once again. When he felt Bucky’s back bow away from him, arching in the throes of his bliss, he moved his attentions to the boy’s nipples, suckling them one after the other before nipping the tiny buds of flesh with loving gestures.

Buchanan was lost to the world around them. Crying out unhindered into the room, he rocked and bounced in his lap, letting his Master do as he pleased to his body. He babbled in his native tongue, notes of pleasure and desire sung into the quiet room as his own fingernails raked heavily down the other’s back. Steve could feel the sting of contact, could feel his skin blooming to life with the redness of his marks, but he cared not. All that mattered was making his One feel warm and sated, even if that took him all night.

Buchanan moved first. As he rode Steve’s lap, accepting his girth without difficulty, he suddenly pressed his hands to his shoulders, dislodging himself from his lap. Before Steve had the opportunity to question what he was doing, Buchanan suddenly dropped down to the bed, turning his back to Steve. He pressed his palms into the mattress beneath him, bent on all fours as he looked up to his owner reverently. The gems of his collar gleamed in the low light, the pendant that dangled from his throat shining the brightest, though the jewels were dull in comparison to the devotion that burned like fire in the Consort’s eyes.

Steve had never moved so quickly in his life. Shifting position, he urged Buchanan closer to the head of the bed, gripping his hips in his hands to position him just so, before he knelt behind him. With reverent kisses, Steve leaned forward, feathering his love across the expanse of the boy’s back as he slotted himself within him once more. As he was sheathed warmly inside him again, Steve wrapped his arm around his waist, lifting him from his position until they were flush, back to chest. “Support yourself, my darling,” he breathed into his ear as he picked up an even pace, filling him again and again. Hearing his One cry out at his penetration, he tugged the lobe of his ear into his mouth, suckling the skin until he’d worked his mark thoroughly. He inhaled his lover’s scent, tasting the sweetness of his skin as he drove onward, the echo of skin connecting filling the air like the lilting notes of the most beautiful suite composed.

Buchanan heaved for breath, leaning into his Master for support. His fingers dug into the wood of their headboard, his knuckles whitening with the effort as he pressed back, accepting him with desperation. He was without words, simply taking what Steve gave him, and dancing high on the pleasure of it. When Steve reached out, wrapping his fingers around his left hand, Buchanan reacted, threading their fingers together as their palms pressed to the wall, using this leverage to deepen his thrusts within him.

It seemed that their abstinence had taken its toll on them. As the moments passed, a whirlwind of pleasing and heady sounds, the stroke of skin to skin and the heat growing evermore between them, Buchanan began to teeter on the edge of oblivion. He lost his grip on Steve’s hand, utilizing the support his arm gave to his waist as his mind frittered out of all thought and sank into the depths of adoration. “I’m… _nngh_ , Master… I’m close…” he managed to squeak, his hair falling into his eyes to cover the glassy, sightless gaze that locked itself onto the bed before them.

Steve nodded, panting for breath as he nuzzled the back of his neck. His own hair was damp, tacked to his temples as he took total control. His Pet would have no more strength in him to react further. If he was already drowning in his lust, then it was up to Steve to assure that he was brought to the precipice safely. Planting one last kiss to his neck, Steve let go of the headboard, utilizing both hands to hold his Pet up. When he was in proper position, he snapped his hips up, finding his mark inside Buchanan and attacking it without mercy. “My love… God, I missed you so!” he muttered, feeling his own arousal alighting inside him with each stroke. He, himself, was already close to release, his legs trembling with the pleasure that coursed through him as the two remained connected, mercilessly clinging to their love for one another as if they could wipe away the pain of their separation from their minds for good.

Buchanan wailed with the stimulation, going completely lax in his Master’s arms. With the last of his strength, he held tightly to his body, his back bowed against Steve’s chest as he lost himself completely, drowning… _drowning_ in pleasure! It was only a few more strokes before Buchanan lost himself to the sea, succumbing without delay in his arms as he came at last, his body pulsing around Steve as he stained the bedding beneath him with his desires. “ _AUUHNNN! YES!_ ” he shouted, his fingertips digging almost painfully into Steve’s sides, bruising his flesh with the sudden strength he showed.

Steve grunted out, resting his chin on his One’s shoulder as he looked down. He could see the remnants of his orgasm, his Pet’s cock twitching as he offered up the last spurts of his release to the bedsheets beneath them. It was enough, it seemed, to drive him over the edge as well as he let go rutting up deeply into his body as he filled him, coating his insides with his love until he was utterly spent. The sensation was unlike anything he’d felt in so long, the warmth and laxity of orgasm rendering him immobile.

The moments passed. Connected in the seeds of their rekindled love, Steve and Buchanan held tightly to each other, never wanting to let go as they danced on the fringes of heaven for long, passing moments. As the ebb and flow of their orgasm finally abated, they both fell to the bed together, still connected by the fruits of their unyielding devotion. Steve landed first; he slumped to the bed, dragging his One into his arms and hailing his damp skin with only the finest brushes of adoration. He remained firmly tucked into his body, unwilling to break this cherished moment as he caressed his skin with his fingertips. “My love… oh my love, I will never let you go again,” he whispered, his voice lost to the expansive room about them.

Buchanan shivered, tucked into his arms like a child wrapping himself in the warmest of blankets. Without a word, he nuzzled up to his front, bare skin pressed together until the heat between them rendered it impossible to tell where the Master began and the Consort ended. They were one being, brought together at last after turmoil had striped the world of their romance, even for such a short time. As he hovered in the darkness, sated by his love, he turned to face him, at long last breaking their connection to wrap himself around Steve’s waist most ardently. “I love you, Master… I love you so, and I cannot be parted from you,” he breathed into the stillness. Looking up at Steve, his eyes as blue as sapphires twinkling in the dimness. “Do you love me, Master? Please, I must hear it.”

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve said. He nodded, reassuring him without hesitation. He reached up, brushing the dark strands from his eyes, and cupping the back of his neck to prove his hold over him remained true. “I love you more than the painter adores the stars. I love you more than the sailor finds his heart amongst the waves. I will never let you go again, my One. I will die before that happens. You have my promise.”

Buchanan listened. A soft smile lifted the corners of his lips, dismissing the pain and agony he’d previously worn on his features, darkening his spirit. Once again, he looked vibrant and whole, his heart shining with the adoration he felt for his Master. He leaned in, brushing his lips over the bridge of Steve’s nose, cherishing his warmth as he nuzzled into his chest, tucked tighter than ever in the circle of his arms. “Always keep me safe, Master. And I will do same,” he murmured into the night.

Steve listened to him, letting the moments dance by in the quiet of August’s night. He watched, reverently guarding his beloved from the world outside and listened to the faintest hum of crickets that serenaded the night, welcoming the love that had been missing back into the world around them. With a gentle hand, Steve pulled the blankets up over the two of them, making note to himself that he would clean them both thoroughly after they had slept awhile. For now, he wanted nothing more than to remain in this bed, holding his One close as he drifted off into slumber.

As Buchanan finally slept, resting peacefully after his ordeal, Steve allowed himself the luxury of memorizing this one moment. His One’s gentle breaths, the feel of his pulse warm against his naked skin, and the seemingly never-ending croon of those crickets singing to the Master soothed his soul, and he pressed his forehead to his Pet’s. Buchanan didn’t move, but that was perfectly alright with Steve. He didn’t need anything beyond this moment; they were at peace once again, and Steve vowed to the quiet night around them that he would forever strive to give only the very best to his love. His adoration, his gifts… hell, he would spoil him for the rest of his days if that’s what it took.

Steve knew, most importantly of all, that his protection was priority. He had been a fool to think nothing could ever come to harm their relationship. After the hardships of their bonding, and their budding romance, Steve realized that the world would remain too cruel outside of their bubble of perfection. To keep his beloved safe, Steve would remain diligent and steadfast, even in the face of the most trying adversity.

Buchanan’s One collar was a symbol of their love. But it would be Steve’s protection that sealed their bond for the rest of their lives. No matter what happened, from that moment on, Steve would always and forever be the Master of his Pet’s protection.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY everything is fixed! Now we just have to figure out what the hell Sitwell was trying to do now! Stay tuned for another chapter, coming soon!!! :D


	10. Noel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of their near separation, the Rogers family celebrates Christmas together, praising the luck of sharing it for the first time with their spoiled, and perfect little Russian Star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! GOT ANOTHER CHAPTER UP!!! 
> 
> Okay, so this one is pretty flurfy I'll admit, but we can't have a Christmas celebration without a little, not-so-wholesome fun. In this chapter, Buchanan will incite some anger in his Master and receive punishment via a good spanking session, so if spanking isn't quite your cup of tea, I wanted to make sure to warn you guys. Steve also employs a new punishment method, after his Pet essentially tells him to fuck off, via Figging. If you don't know what figging is, it is the practice of inserting a piece of shaved ginger into the anus, vagina, or urethra of a submissive during a scene. Figging causes intense burning in the recipient, which can greatly heighten their sensitivity to pleasure when used in conjunction with other BDSM methods. 
> 
> Oh, and face-fucking. That's a thing in this chapter too. ;) 
> 
> ANYWAY! I won't bore you with too many details, I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up on the kind of practices used in this chapter just in case. As always, let me know what you think of the chapter in the comments below!

The screech of laughter filled the room around them, ringing against the mahogany finish of the walls; the sound was so loud, it sent the cat snoozing beneath the table scurrying for shelter with a yowl of his own added to the cacophony. A second later, just where poor Dooley had been lying beneath the ornate furniture, a foot came crashing down as Buchanan sprinted through the room, squealing in delight at his impromptu game. Behind him, Angela laughed wickedly, her fingers extended in front of her as she chased the younger Consort through the house to the chorus of their thundering feet rattling the pictures dangling on the walls. In the midst of the chaos, there came the sound of Darcy shouting in surprise in the other room, her cry followed by the sound of china rattling on a platter, as if ready to fall and crash to the floor below.

During the whole commotion, as the rest of the house chased the two Pets in their attempts to calm them down, Steve simply remained seated in the study, serenely listening to the two Pets play their game of tag within the house. He held a glass of brandy in his fingers, grinning to himself as he listened to Darcy scold the two for causing her to nearly drop the dishes. Of course, her chastising fell on deaf ears. Instead of listening to her, the two only bolted deeper into the house in their seemingly never ending game, laughter permeating the warm air with sharp squeals of delight. Steve simply laughed to himself and took a sip of brandy in response.

“Do you plan on stopping them before they turn the whole house upside down?” Sam asked, cutting through the pleasant buzz in Steve’s head. Opening his eyes, Steve looked up to see his friend giving him a look. It was supposed to be firm, perhaps even authoritative, but Steve could see the amusement glinting in his chocolate eyes all the same.

“Not at all. Let them burn some of the energy off. I believe they had far too much plum pudding,” he said in response. Getting to his feet, he circled around the wall of the study, standing in the hallway. Just as he did, he watched fondly as he saw his Pet zip past him with Angela in pursuit, his dark hair tousled around his face. His hair had grown in some since August, falling in faint curls around his temples. Despite the cold of winter’s air outside, the landscape beyond the tall windows of the study cast in a blanket of snow, the house was warm and steadily growing more so the longer the two Consorts frolicked inside. That heat caused a flush to color the cheeks of the two Pets, as damp curls of hair stuck to their skin at their temples.

“Steven Grant Rogers!” Peggy’s voice called over the hullabaloo. He looked up from watching the two Pets playing, to see his wife standing at the top of the stairs, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “My goodness, I thought there was a herd of cattle parading around down here. What on Earth is going on?!”

“Nothing, my dear, I’m just about to break it up,” Steve laughed. As he spoke, he extended his arm, wrapping it around Buchanan’s waist as the teen sprinted past him. With a grin on his lips, he scooped the boy into his arms, throwing his free arm under his knees as he held the wriggling youth close to his chest. “Aha! Caught you!”

“MASTER!” Buchanan giggled. He squirmed in Steve’s grip, before looking up to see Angela advancing on him, her fingers curled to tickle him again. “No! Aye, no save me!” he cried out, trying to crawl over his shoulder to escape her onslaught.

“Not so fast,” Steve said. He turned, reaching out to place his hand on Angela’s shoulder and stop her. “That’s enough, you two. The house is liable to fall down around us if you keep this up!”

“Yes, Master Steven,” Angela said, breathlessly. She dropped her hands to her sides, and bowed her head before giving Buchanan a dangerous look. “But he started it!”

“I did no start it!” Buchanan said, pouting. He remained slung over Steve’s shoulder, but turned to give her an off put look. “I did nothing, I swear to it!”

“You put feathers in my dress!”

“I thought they go there!” Buchanan retorted, looking up to give Steve an innocent look. “Is true!”

“Alright, alright!” Steve chuckled. Putting his Pet down, he kept his arms wrapped around his waist before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “But that’s enough. Settle down and go by the tree. It’s time to open gifts.”

Almost instantly, the two Pets snapped to attention, looking up at Steve with wide eyes before they darted from the hallway into the study, where the large evergreen had been erected. The tree was covered in baubles, glass balls dangling from the branches, and strings of tinsel shimmering in the firelight. Beneath the tree, a collection of gifts had been wrapped in colored paper, one for each of the members of the household, and sat beckoning to be opened and admired by the receiver.

“Well that was easy,” Sam said, shaking his head. Clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder, he offered him a smirk before entering the study to join the two Pets seated obediently on their cushions. “Youth will always be youth.”

“Indeed,” Steve said, following him into the study. He took his seat by the tree, watching as Buchanan instantly curled into his leg, his arms wrapped around his calf as he placed his head on his knees, nuzzling the soft silk of Steve’s evening robe. His attention was taken away from his Master a moment later, when Darcy entered the room, carrying a tray of biscuits and nog before placing the pre-dinner treats on the table. However, when Bucky sat up to swipe a biscuit from the plate, Steve reached down and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, placing kisses on his knuckles to distract him. “Ah, ah. I don’t think so, you’ve had quite enough sugar, my love, and you do not want to spoil your appetite.”

“Well, I can see the cattle has been returned to its pasture!” Peggy said, entering the room a moment later. In her hands, she had a small shawl which she gave to her Pet. Angela took the shawl from her and wrapped it around her bare shoulders, before quickly settling into her place at her Mistress’ feet. “Have we had enough gallivanting about the house, Pets?”

“Yes, Miss Peggy,” Buchanan said, nodding to her. He had settled back into Steve’s side, nuzzling his cheek into his knee dutifully. “We are sorry for causing such trouble.”

“Oh not to worry,” Peggy said, smiling down at him. “We fear more for your taking a tumble than breaking anything. If you wish to expel any energy, we should take this little party outside after dinner.”

Steve watched as Buchanan and Angela perked up even further, if that was at all possible. He cast a wary eye to the window and the drifts of snow laden on the ground outside before clearing his throat. “Yes, that is, of course after you both have bundled up properly,” he said, petting Buchanan’s hair gently.

“I know a good way to distract you,” Sam said, sitting up from his chair. “How about a poem? I think it’s rather fitting for a little Christmas Eve celebration, yes?”

“A poem?” Angela looked up at Sam, her eyes wide in anticipation. “What kind of poem?”

“Ah, it’s the story of Saint Nicholas,” Sam said. He leaned his elbows into his knees, giving both Buchanan and Angela a very serious look. “If you promise to behave the rest of the night and bundle up properly when we go outside, I’ll tell it to you.”

A chorus of agreement met Sam’s words, as the two Pets turned to face him with eager eyes. With that, the little party fell quiet, listening to the crackling of the hearth, and Sam as he recounted the poem with a strong, melodic voice.

_  
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house_

_Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;_

_The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,_

_In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;_

_The children were nestled all snug in their beds,_

_While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads_ _…_

  
Steve listened carefully, watching the awe on Buchanan’s face as his friend recounted the poem with rapt attention. He’d heard it once before, though he paid little mind to it now, satisfied with witnessing the awe flickering in his love’s blue eyes. He was pulled from his thoughts a moment later, by Darcy’s hand on his shoulder and he looked up. Darcy leaned in, whispering in his ear that the food would be done in less than an hour, and he smiled, clapping her hand on her own in response.

By the time Sam had finished his poem, and the two Consorts had been soothed into complacency, daydreaming about the jolly Saint Nicholas, Darcy had returned to the study, dusting her hands off with an air of success.

“Right! The goose should be done in about twenty minutes, if’n ye want to get to those presents, sir, now would be a good time,” Darcy said, beaming down at them.

“Ah thank you so much, Darcy,” Steve said, nodding to her. Then, he gestured to the remaining chair in the room and winked. “Though I think you should join us. Wouldn’t be a festive night without your company now.”

“Ah! Thank you kindly, sir. Let me just nip off to the dining room and make sure the wine is set,” she said, beaming at him before flouncing out of the room on light feet.

Within a few moments she had returned, taking her seat across from the others. The moment she did, Steve got to his feet, tying the belt of his robe a little tighter before patting his Pet’s head. “Now then. Presents. Who shall be the lucky one to receive theirs first?” he said, grinning mischievously. Almost instantly, Buchanan and Angela sat up, prim and proper as they offered the master of the house their brightest smiles. Behind them, Sam and Peggy both chuckled at their behavior. Steve winked at his wife before throwing his hands up. “Aye! Both so well behaved. This makes the decision quite difficult now, doesn’t it?”

He lingered for a few moments, watching as the Consorts held their breaths in anticipation. He broke the spell with a grin and bent to grab two gifts of equal size and wrapped in festive green paper. “Ah, what can I do? With eyes as big as yours, I can’t deny either of you,” he added, holding the gifts out to the two.

Buchanan and Angela both took their presents with giddy smiles, holding them dutifully in their laps to wait for the rest of the family. Steve hesitated, his eyes locked on his beloved One as the boy sat tall and proud, holding his present as though it were the most precious gift of all. Seeing him looking so pleased, with cheeks dusted in rouge courtesy of Angela, and his curly hair framing his angelic face, made his heart flutter in utter delight. It had been five months since he’d brought his Pet home, and even now, he continued to find new ways to fall in love with him all over again.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Steve continued to distribute the presents, even passing a box to Darcy, who took it with awe on her features. Once everyone had had a present laid in their lap, they all tore into the paper with enthusiasm, opening their gifts with a chorus of delighted cries.

Steve chuckled, pulling out a brand new pair of cufflinks from the box. Aside from the cufflinks, he found a new, silk ascot in the same sky blue that adorned his Pet’s eyes, a pair of white evening gloves, and a small journal. The journal was leather bound with his initials printed into the corner. Ah yes. This journal would do well to catalogue his favorite poses of his Pet, and their many ventures in the bedroom…

“Oh! Master!” Buchanan spoke up eagerly. In his hands he held up a thick white coat, lined with mink fur, and held it close to his chest. “Oh, is beautiful! I love it!”

“Oh my, that is a beautiful coat!” Steve said, admiring it openly. “That will be perfect to wear outside later.”

Buchanan giggled, hugging the warm coat close to his chest before gingerly laying it inside the box once again. “Yes, Master,” he said, scooting closer. Without a word, he got to his feet and carefully folded himself into Steve’s lap, tucked up under his chin with a happy sound.

Steve beamed, wrapping himself around Buchanan and kissing his cheek. With that, the two of them settled into the chair, watching the others admire their gifts with equal measures of delight. Darcy cooed happily over a new pair of shoes, while Peggy and Angela happily preened over a set of gold hairbrushes between them. Sam remained quiet, his smile wistful as he found a new walking stick, the handle finely polished and set with an eagle emblem in the butt. He offered Steve a thankful look for the lavish looking piece, and Steve nodded to him before brushing his fingers through Buchanan’s curly hair in contentment.

It had certainly turned out to be a wonderful evening. With the scent of the evergreen wafting the warm air, the roaring fire warming the air around them, and everyone’s joyful expressions, Steve couldn’t say he’d ever celebrated a Christmas this perfect in his life. It felt like his life had been plucked directly from the pages of a novel, perfection made flesh in joyful laughter, warmth, and adoration. Steve knew how important this moment was. While Peggy and Sam had scolded Steve for allowing his Pet to run rampant in the house earlier, he knew it was all jest. They were just as pleased to have Buchanan in their lives as he was, the final puzzle piece of a whole family with this lovely Russian boy in their lives. Buchanan hadn’t just changed Steve’s life as the most wonderful lover he could ever ask for; he’d changed _all_ of theirs, bringing light and laughter into their world with his playfulness, his cheeky banter, and his sense of humor.

Oh his sense of humor… Steve had learned quickly that his beloved One was quite the witty young man, and could easily command an argument with saucy words and an impish grin. On many occasions, Buchanan had stunned poor Sam into silence with a joke no innocent young man should ever speak of; he would grin cheekily, retorting to Sam’s teasing in kind, and sending Steve and Peggy into fits of laughter at Sam’s gob smacked expression. He got along wonderfully with Darcy, the two sharing giggles and teasing as he would keep her company as he watched her work in the house. And Angela… oh Angela and Buchanan were as thick as thieves. Despite being nearly 8 years her junior, they were near inseparable when not at their Master and Mistress’ sides. Like the younger brother she never had, Angela doted upon Buchanan, taking it upon herself to brush his hair and detangle it, dust his cheeks with lovely pink tones to bring out his eyes, and spending long hours cuddling with the other Pet as they read together. Of course, like siblings do, they had their spats though they usually consisted of Buchanan tugging her metaphorical pigtails while Angela hollered at him. These quarrels never lasted long, and soon they would be right back to their carefree smiles all over again.

As he sat before them, Steve allowed the rumble of conversation to lull him into silence and he allowed himself a moment to detach from the room, holding his beloved close to his chest as if he’d never let him go as long as he lived. And to think this precious moment might not have been a possibility at all...

Steve grimaced at the memory, closing his eyes to ward off the ache of its ghost from his mind. Just four short months ago, Steve had very nearly lost this beautiful boy, and the chance to share such a joyous holiday with him because of the overzealous attention of a tyrannical Union Officer. To think he still feared the horror of that loss, even to this day when he had no reason to fear its presence as a lingering threat in their lives. As if to shake himself from the unpleasant thought, he tightened his grip around his One’s waist at the memory, and he sighed in content at the feeling of the smooth, supple flesh there.

It was lucky that Buchanan had found his health just in time for the frigid chill of winter to overtake the land; Steve did not want to think what might have transpired if he had not assisted his lovely Pet to utmost health before the freeze of England’s winters had rendered him ill. Of course, it had been a work in progress due to Buchanan’s lingering insecurities of his weight, but with plenty of coaxing and praise, that gaunt, frail looking lad had disappeared for good leaving behind a tall, shapely young man in his stead. His belly was smooth to the touch, with just the right amount of plush softness layered over his muscles that had grown over time. His cheeks, once sallow looking and sharp, had rounded out, giving him a younger appearance. Both his arms and legs had also shaped quite nicely, both from their frequent exercises, and their bedroom activities as he held himself up to Steve’s commanding play. All in all, Buchanan looked healthy, a well-tended to and spoiled Consort with a dazzling smile, soft blue eyes, and a golden heart.

He felt Buchanan squirm in his grip, and he looked down at the confused lad. Ah of course, Buchanan had sensed his thoughts and grew worried for his Master as he always did when Steve found himself lost in his thoughts for too long. Offering him a comforting look, Steve simply brushed his hair from his forehead, pulling him into a tender kiss to banish his worries and relax him once more. Their noses brushed for a moment, and Buchanan giggled when his Master tickled his sides, but they did not move apart. Too wrapped up in each other, they simply held on, Buchanan’s arms threaded around his Master’s neck, while Steve showered his One in undying adoration.

All too soon, the moment ended as Darcy announced that dinner was complete. As the spell breaks, everyone quickly moved from the study, leaving their gifts behind to gather around the table for the lovely meal. Warm, comforting smells filled the air, making everyone’s mouths water at the sight of the roasted goose, plentiful greens, and mince pies to go around. Bread freshly warmed in the oven sat ready to be slathered in plenty of store-chilled butter, and wine was poured aplenty as everyone sat ready to feast to their heart’s content, chattering happily as they complimented Darcy for her cooking. As Steve sat with Buchanan, he held his hand tightly under the table, watching proudly as the teen eagerly filled his plate with food, uninhibited as he once had been. And as he watched his Pet bow his head in prayer before digging into the feast, Steve allowed himself one extra prayer, thanking God above on the day of his Son’s birth for gifting him his darling Bucky and the blessing of a love unfettered by the turmoil of the world beyond their safe haven.

* * *

 

They had been outside for about an hour now, taking their time to explore the frozen landscape and get out of the house for a while. The air was muted around them, still and cold as the snow-covered world around them soaked up all sound around them and leaving the small group in a serene world far away from reality.

Buchanan beamed, his hands tucked safely inside the white coat he’d been gifted this Christmas eve and his legs encased in thick silk-lined wool pants to ward off the chill from his thighs. A little tuckered out from the filling meal they’d had, he remained quiet as he watched Sam and Peggy show Angela how to create a little snowman, rolling the balls of snow carefully before stacking them. He felt content, watching his family enjoy each other’s company on this lovely winter’s day before they would return to the warmth of their home for the evening. Of course, just as Buchanan turned to look and see where his Master had gone, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind, pulling him flush against a broad chest. He looked back, his heart fluttering happily at the sight of his beloved Master, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold, and his beard and coat dusted with tiny snowflakes. “Master. There you are,” he said, turning in his arms to hug him.

“Aye, never left,” Steve said. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Buchanan’s forehead before cupping his hand over his cheek. As he did, he met his gaze with worry clearly in his blue eyes. “Do you feel cold, _Zvezda_? Your skin is ice!” Steve said, shaking his head.

Buchanan giggled. He leaned into his arms, pressing his lips to Steve’s in a tender brush before he canted his head down to rest on his Master’s shoulder. “No! I am used to this,” he said giving his Master a pointed look. “This is no cold. Not like where I come from.”

Steve nodded, his eyes widening for a moment before his cheeks turned a shade darker. “Ah. Right.” he said, shaking his head. “Right, how could I forget?” Even still, after admitting his mistake, Steve kept his hands on the Pet’s shoulders, gently massaging warmth into his arms through the thick layer of his coat.

Buchanan smirked, rolling his eyes a little at his Master’s protective urges. He crossed his arm, grabbing for Steve’s hand and lifting it from his shoulder. With a tender look in his eyes, Buchanan pressed his lips to Steve’s palm, exhaling slowly against the callouses there to warm the chilled skin, before pressing his palm to his throat. He could feel his collar pushing into his skin with the weight of Steve’s hand on his throat, and he shivered as the cold metal soaked into his flesh. “You have no need to be so worried. I will be fine. I promise.”

Steve nodded, swallowing a little before he flexed his fingers. Buchanan shivered as he felt those fingertips pressing into his skin, and he leaned forward into his touch. With an intent burn in his eyes, he slotted himself against Steve’s front, letting his thigh brush against his groin where they stood in a snowdrift. “Bucky...” Steve said, the crack in his voice camouflaged by his authority. “I do believe it is impolite to tease me in front of the others. Especially out in a field. You know better than this.”

Buchanan grinned. He looked up at Steve, through the veil of his snowflake speckled eyelashes, and he bit his lip. “I know… but is good way to warm us back up, no? Since you are so worried for me to be cold?”

Steve shuddered, though Buchanan was fairly certain it wasn’t from the chilly, snowy air around them. “I suppose you are not wrong,” he said. Licking his lips a little, Steve leaned in and tightened his grip around his neck, just the slightest bit. “Still, it’s not decent to arouse me in front of my wife and friend. You are not behaving yourself, Bucky.”

Buchanan just smiled. He let his hands trail down his Master’s sides, pushing into the folds of his black coat before he brushed his lips over the bristles of Steve’s bearded chin. “Perhaps, I am in need of redirection, Master… would you be able to teach me a lesson? Perhaps tonight?”

Steve fought back a little groan, leaning in. He slanted his head to allow his lips to brush over Buchanan’s before tugging on the youth’s lower lip sharply. “Perhaps I will… You are very disobedient, not listening to me.”

“Then punish me,” Buchanan breathed. He leaned up, capturing his Master in a deep kiss. With all attention on him, Buchanan nibbled at his master’s mouth, swelling his already full lips further before allowing his tongue to dart out and soothe the sting. When Steve groaned in response, Buchanan took advantage of the momentary distraction, and allowed his tongue to dart inside to lick and savor his Master’s essence once more.

Steve could only respond, already losing himself to the moment, though despite Buchanan’s actions goading him on and teasing him into a frenzy right there in the field, he took control. Never letting go of his position of authority, Steve reached down and grabbed Buchanan’s wrists. With firm, but gentle motions, he pushed the boy’s hands behind his back, and Buchanan whimpered as his shoulders pulled just the slightest bit. He felt his hands crossed at the wrists behind the small of his back, and he tore his gaze open to look at his flustered, aroused Master before him. “You are very naughty. For choosing not to listen to me, I think I will have to use the paddle tonight.”

Buchanan wiggled in his grip in delight. Already, he could feel his skin tingling with want… oh, this would be a wonderful Christmas Eve after all. “Oh no… not the paddle…” he whispered with no amount of worry in his tone.

Just then, the magical moment was broken. As Steve leaned in to capture his beloved in another searing kiss, there came a whistling through the air before a mass of icy powder landed with sharp impact across Steve’s head. Buchanan gasped, wrenching away from Steve, as the two of them looked up. Totally bewildered by what had just happened, Buchanan reached up and pushed the snow from his dark hair as Steve shook his head hard, dislodging the snow that had caked into his beard and dusted along the right side of his head.

Across the yard stood Sam and Peggy, the two of them grinning wickedly. Angela stood behind her mistress, wrapped up in a thick coat, and giggling wildly at their shocked expressions. “Master Steven, I do believe that that sort of public display of affection is quite improper. You don’t want to ruin the sanctity of your bond by proving such gross behavior in public, no?” Sam called. With a fire of mischief in his eyes, he lobbed a second snowball at the two of them, and Buchanan yelped as he darted out of the way. Steve had the same idea, as the two of them scattered. A yip of delight raised up over the quiet landscape, and just like that, the five of them were locked in battle, shamelessly flinging snowballs at one another across the fields.

Darting through the snow, Buchanan moved quickly, fingers stinging from the frigid atmosphere as he scooped up a handful of snow. Forming it into a ball, he turned on his heel, watching as Sam came after him, already launching a third tuft of snow at him with unwavering confidence. Of course, the man had forgotten exactly where Buchanan hailed from, a fact that the boy used to his advantage. Shouting out in defiance, Buchanan suddenly ducked away, rolling across the snow away from his Master’s friend. He quickly tucked under, getting his feet beneath him before rising a second later. The moment he did, he threw his snowball towards Sam just as the man was turning to land another attack. Buchanan’s aim was true, a shot that would land squarely between Sam’s eyes. Sure enough, before Sam had even a chance to face him fully, the snowball landed its mark, an explosion of snow in his eyes that had Sam fumbling backwards, his arms pin wheeling before he fell back into the snowdrift.

Buchanan wasted no time. Taking Sam’s distraction, Buchanan shot forward, running full tilt through the snow again. He could see Peggy and Steve locked in combat, the two of them flinging snowballs at each other with surprising speed while Angela worked diligently to make snowballs for her Mistress. With the extra hands, Steve was outmanned, ducking behind bushes and stone walls to avoid being hit by snow as Peggy continued to pelt him without mercy.

Not missing a beat, Buchanan scooped up a handful of snow and formed it into a ball while he ran. As he did, he circled around behind Steve, and with a war cry, let the snowball fly. Peggy barely had a chance to react before the snowball found its mark, hitting her squarely in the face. The woman grunted as she stumbled backwards, landing on her backside in the snow, just as Angela jumped in surprise. Buchanan didn’t give her a chance, forming a third snowball and launching it at the unguarded Pet. He watched as Angela was hit with the snow, tumbling backwards and landing into Peggy’s outstretched arms, the two women stunned by the accuracy with which they were downed.

At his side, Steve stared at Buchanan, his eyes as wide as saucers. Whatever little snow he had in hand fell and he looked around, seeing Sam picking himself up from the ground as Peggy and Angela dusted the snow off of themselves, laughing hysterically at their lost battle. A single snowball each had ended the fight, leaving Buchanan and Steve the remaining soldiers standing in this wintry warfare. “My word,” Steve said, staring at Buchanan with wonder on his face. “You would have made a fine sniper in the Army, my love! How did you manage that?”

Buchanan shrugged. Looking at his Master, he beamed at him, folding his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels innocently. “I am just good at aiming,” he said. Then, without warning, Buchanan reared back, the hidden snowball behind his back thrown with brutal accuracy at his Master. With point-blank range, the snow exploded in his Captain’s face, throwing him backwards in surprise before he collapsed into the deep slush behind him. Buchanan laughed, clapping his hands loudly as he watched Steve sit up, totally baffled by what had just happened.

“Turncoat!” Steve laughed, climbing back to his feet. With that, he threw himself at Buchanan, the two of them tumbling backwards into the drifts the two rolling in the snow as they wrestled, one trying to dominate the other in this match. “But you are no match for me! Have at you!”

“OH NO!” Buchanan wailed, trying to hide from his Master’s cold, cold fingers. He could feel them snaking up his coat, under the shirt beneath to rake over his warm skin in icy touches, and he shrieked in delight. But there would be no help coming for him. Sam and Peggy stayed back, joining in Steve’s laughter as the boy struggled to gain his freedom again.

It was Angela that came to his rescue, giggling in mirth as she landed on Steve’s back. Her heroic gesture pushed the other two into action, as Sam and Peggy joined in the fray, the five of them locked in a flurry of movement in an attempt to be the King of this frozen mountain. The resulting pile of limbs kicked up clouds of slush and ice into the air, the fields filled with their shrieks and laughter until the sounds echoed across the landscape.

Finally, at long last, Buchanan was able to extract himself from the match, getting to his feet. He looked down, smiling brighter than the sun as he watched Sam climb to his feet and chase a red-faced Angela across the yard, while Peggy roll on top of Steve and stuff a handful of snow into his coat. Steve squirmed beneath her, pinned to the ground by her straddling legs as he cried out for Buchanan’s help. He would have jumped into the match to rescue his beloved Master then and there, if their play had not been interrupted quite suddenly, by a shrill voice.

“What in the _BLOODY HELL_!” Darcy’s voice rang out. At that, all motion stopped as they looked up at the shocked servant in surprise. At the edge of the yard, Darcy stood, bundled up warmly and her arms crossed over her chest. “What is the meanin’ of all this! I thought you were the Heads of this house, and here you are, rollin’ in the snow like hooligans! Get up! _Up!_ Before you all catch your death!”

Steve chuckled, sitting up. His coat was covered in snow, and he carefully helped his wife to her feet before helping her dust the snow off of her breeches with a sheepish look. “My apologies Darcy, we got ahead of ourselves…”

“Ooh, don’t give me that! I _just_ put the kettle away, and now here you all are wrapped up in snow.” Darcy shook her head, chastising them all before slapping her Master’s arm. “Inside, the lot of you, while I prepare tea and baths to warm you up! Honestly, I am the _only_ sane adult in this house these days. It’s no bloody wonder where the Pets’ behavior came from! Despicable!” With that, Darcy turned on her heel and marched into the house, her head held high in her irritation, as she set off to prepare hot baths and tea for her playful employers.

Buchanan giggled, sidling up to Angela as Peggy and Steve both blushed at their behavior. Sam, on the other hand, only looked put-out that their banter had been ended so soon, and shook his head. “We’d best get inside before Darcy has our heads,” Sam said with only the faintest hint of amusement. “The sun is nearly set, as it is. Buchanan, Angela, are you both well?”

“Yes, Sam,” Buchanan said, holding his arms out to show he had come to no harm. “All is well.”

“Good. Let’s get inside before it gets much colder. I say, Darcy has the right idea with hot baths now!”

Buchanan nodded, watching as their small caravan began to head inside. However, he hesitated, his eyes widening. “Oh! I was to go to Liberty’s stable and wish her Merry Christmas!”

Steve paused, looking back at his Pet with a fond smile. “You can do so in the morning if you wish. It’s nearly dark now.”

Buchanan shook his head, before beaming. “I wish to stay in bed tomorrow with you as much as possible.”

“Ah,” Steve said waggling a brow at him knowingly. “Well then, shall I come with?”

Buchanan considered it for a moment. His poor Master was shivering under his coat, having been soaked with snow, and unused to such cold temperatures. He preferred his Master go in to warm up, and prepare the bath and bed for himself when he returned. “No, I am well to do on my own. I will be quick. I promise.”

Steve nodded, looking to the path to the stable. For a moment he seemed as if he would protest, but he stopped, his eyes softening. “Very well then. Give her a sugar cube from me, would you? I’ll make sure your bath is hot and ready for you when you come in.”

Buchanan nodded, watching his Master go inside. With a soft smile, Buchanan turned and walked for the stable, navigating the slippery path with ease. The moment he stepped into the stable, he felt somewhat warmer, and he shook whatever snow was in his hair away before reaching up and brushing his fingers over the icy cold collar to ensure it had not fallen off during the earlier events. When he was certain the collar was still securely fastened around his throat, he walked deeper into the stable. There, he spotted Liberty, surrounded by much straw to keep her warm, and dozing in the quiet. “Good evening, Liberty,” Buchanan said quietly. Approaching the stall, he watched as the horse lifted her head, before whickering quietly to her visitor. “Merry Christmas. I wished to come and bid you a good holiday,” he said. With a careful hand, he reached into a small sack next to the stall, and withdrew two sugar cubes, holding them up with a smile. “One from me, and one from Master,” he said, holding his palm out flat to the horse.

Liberty bobbed her head a little, taking the sugar cubes into her mouth. With a soft sound, she butted her head into Buchanan’s chest, her velveteen nose brushing over his chest as she nuzzled him happily.

“You are glad I came to bid you holiday cheer,” Buchanan said, grinning happily. He reached up, brushing his fingers over her blaze before wrapping his arm around her neck lovingly. “I am glad too.  Perhaps I come see you tomorrow again. I know you miss the fields. Summer comes soon… I promise.”

“How sweet of you, Buchanan. If only others treated these beasts with such care and devotion.”

The voice startled Buchanan, and he stumbled back from the horse with surprise. Looking up, his eyes were wide as he peered into the darkening stables, his hand firmly on Liberty’s neck. “What? Who is here?”

A soft sound cast over the stables, like a breath of air sighed into the night. As Buchanan watched, he saw a woman step out from the shadows, emerging as if the shadows melted away from her and fled her presence in fright. His eyes widened at the sight of the woman, and he took a step back, not recognizing who she was. She was a stern looking woman, young in face, but aged beyond her years in experience. Her hair was dark red, darker than the fiery plumes of Lady Natalia’s own locks, and her eyes were piercing in the night, set above a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Her lips were dark red, as dark as the dress and coat she wore, and her eyelids were painted in coal black powder. She looked rather terrifying in Buchanan’s opinion, and the smile that graced her dark lips was solemn, almost dangerous.

“I do apologize for startling you,” the woman said. As she spoke her smile softened into something a little gentler and she extended her hand to Buchanan. “Do not be afraid of me. I am here to simply look out for you.”

Buchanan watched her, not daring to draw any closer to her. His eyes darted to her hand, and he shrank back a little, feeling his heart thundering nervously in his chest. “You look out for me. But I do not know you. Who are you?”

“Nobody of consequence,” the woman said quietly. “Simply that I am from the Union Hall, an affiliate of the advocates that saved your relationship with Captain Rogers. I am simply here, seeing how you are faring since the trial. Where is the captain? I am surprised you are out here on your own.”

Buchanan shook his head. Every nerve in his body felt heightened, wary of her words. But if she was with the Union, then she meant no harm. He didn’t remember seeing her at the trial that many weeks ago, but… then again, he didn’t quite remember much about it at all. He simply had focused too hard on his Master and his own uncertain future to pay any attention to anyone else around them. “He is inside. He went in to draw bath for us. I came out here to bid our horse good night, is all…”

The woman nodded again, looking to the blonde mare before she spoke again. “I see. How kind of your master to tend to your chills.” She paused, looking up at Buchanan before her smile returned, a Cheshire grin that sent a shiver up Buchanan’s spine. “And you? How do you fare since the trial? I can see you are a healthy boy… Tall, strong. The Captain has been tending to you properly?”

Buchanan nodded. He wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to feel somewhat smaller, and he spoke in low tones. “Yes. He take good care of me. I… I love him so.” he said quietly. “Do you wish to speak to him? I could… fetch him for you if you wish.”

The woman shook her head, waving her hand dismissively. “No need. I can see things are well here, which is all I can ask of the Captain.” Pushing her hands into her pockets, she brushed past Buchanan and stepped to the doorway of the stable. There, she paused, and turned back to him with a knowing look. “Oh, and do remember this: don’t mention this meeting with the Captain. Wouldn’t want to stress him needlessly over a trivial encounter now, yes?”

Buchanan listened to her, not saying a word as she watched him. Instead, he nodded, silently agreeing with her request, though he didn’t know why. He had no reason to trust her and what she asked, but… perhaps this was nothing to worry about after all. “Alright. I will no say anything.” he said, at last.

The woman nodded, flashing him a smile that was almost warm before she turned for the stable doors. “Very good. I should be going now… a pleasant evening to you, Buchanan. Merry Christmas.”

Buchanan nodded, watching as the woman slipped from the stables at last, into the chilly landscape outside. The moment she was out of sight, he felt himself flush pink, slumping against the stall door as he stared at the door. That had been more terrifying than he cared to think about, and he couldn’t even place why! It was as if she’d simply sapped the happiness out of the room with her presence. For a long moment, Buchanan didn’t move, too afraid that if he did, something else would happen and she would return.

Union worker or not, Buchanan did not want to meet her again anytime soon.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he offered Liberty one last pat on the nose before setting off for the stable doors. He peeked out, wondering where that woman went, before tentatively stepping out into the snow again. When he found no sign of her at all, he quickly bolted for the door of the house, letting himself in with a bang of wood against frame. Panting heavily, Buchanan leaned against the door, as if he’d seen a ghost, blocking the doorway with his body. Quite suddenly, he felt very cold and uncomfortable, as if the cheer of the day had simply whittled away to nothing. How strange… who was this woman? And why had she affected him so thoroughly. It had just been a short conversation. No threats… well, none that he could decipher at the very least...

“Bucky?” Darcy said, breaking through the fog of his thoughts. He looked up from where he was staring at the door, and caught sight of her watching him from the entryway to the kitchen, her expression deeply concerned. “Are you alright, dear?”

Buchanan shook his head. He thought back to the strange, red-headed woman he’d just seen, and briefly wondered if he should mention it. After a moment’s contemplation, he decided it would be best to keep it to himself. Nothing had come of it after all, so there was no sense in dredging up the concern any further. “I am… well… I suppose I am just tired now.”

Darcy listened. She didn’t quite seem convinced, and she hovered before Bucky for a long moment as if she would try and wheedle the problem out of him. After a moment, she seemed to let go of the topic at last, placing her hands on his shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “Well, if you’re sure. Master Steven went upstairs a few minutes ago. I’m sure he’s got the bath running for the both of you if’n you need to warm back up again. You feel as cool as ice!”

Buchanan nodded. Thankful for the momentary distraction, he broke away from Darcy’s touch, and shyly slipped past her towards the stairwell. With the promise of seeing his Master and finding comfort in his large arms and warm embrace, Buchanan allowed himself to relax, and finally push the encounter from his mind at last. “Thank you, Darcy. I will go see to him.” He ascended the stairs, before stopping halfway up. With a small nod, he turned back to the young woman and offered her a smile. “Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Bucky,” Darcy said, waving to him. “Now get you upstairs before Master Steven comes lookin’ for ye.”

“I will. Thank you Darcy,” Bucky said flashing her a warm smile before scampering up the steps at last. By the time he made it to their suites, he’d all but forgotten about his encounter in the stables. There was no need to dwell on it, no. It had just been a concerned Union worker after all. There surely wouldn’t be cause to worry about someone who had sworn their life to protecting himself and his relationship with his Master...

* * *

 

The hour was late, and the room cool around them. Outside, the skies had opened up again, offering the landscape a fresh dusting of snow that chilled the house despite the hearty fires that kept the interior protected from the elements outside

Steve smiled to himself, lying in bed with his Pet as the two of them relaxed. It had been a strenuous day for the lot of them, and the idea of lying in bed and just recovering from the filling meal, playful banter of holiday cheer, and the warm soaking baths they had both taken kept a fire of delight burning in his chest. A candle burned on the side table, casting a faint glow across the book in his hand, and the wine glasses that sat next to the decanter Steve had brought up earlier. The wine was nearly gone, Buchanan’s glass empty, while Steve’s sat mostly untouched at the moment. The ruby liquid permeated the room with its scent, and Steve smiled as he felt the alcoholic heat coming off of his Pet’s body from the liquor flowing in his veins.

At his side, Buchanan lay with him, tucked into his side and his cheek resting on his chest as he listened to his Master read to him. The first installment of The Duke’s Children had been a long-time inhabitant of Steve’s bookshelf, and with the long wait for Dostoyevsky’s next serial to publish, Buchanan was eager for something new to read. As Steve’s voice lilted over the quiet room around them, Buchanan’s eyes remained locked on the pages, his mouth slightly ajar as he soaked up the story’s tale with rapt, inebriated interest.

Steve smiled, his eyes ghosting over the final line of the text as he read it aloud to the silent boy in his arms. “And that’s the end of the first part,” Steve said at last, closing the book in his hand before looking down at his beloved.

“May we read the next part?” Buchanan asked, looking up at his Master with shining eyes. “Please? I wish to know what happens next!”

“It is late,” Steve said putting the book down on the side table. “Perhaps you should get some sleep. You’ve had a very big day, and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“No!” Buchanan said with a giggle. He squirmed in Steve’s side, the twinkle of his collar echoing in the quiet room as he looked up at him. “I am no tired! I am wide awake!”

Steve chuckled, watching his Pet implore him with those big, eager eyes of his. Damn him, but he was a doomed man if the sight of those precious blues could render him helpless. “Are you certain of that? I can see it in your eyes. You are but falling asleep on me as we speak!” he added, teasing him just the slightest bit. Oh, but the sight of Buchanan whining and begging for more attention did little to calm down his own eagerness. As he watched his Pet sit up, and climb over to sit on his lap, he felt his own excitement at the boy’s healthy appetite for attention warm the pit of his belly.

“No I am not!” Buchanan said. He gave his Master a haughty look, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched him with pride in his eyes. “If you are tired, is because you are old.”

“Old?!” Steve barked, sitting up. He wrapped his arms around Buchanan’s waist, pulling him closer to himself as he pressed his lips to his throat. “Who said I was old? I’ll have the bastard whipped for casting such a slander on me,” he added, in between kisses.

Above him, Buchanan choked back a sigh of delight at his kisses, the teen’s limbs going loose around his neck as he felt his Master’s touch on his sensitive throat. “It… it was I that said you were old,” Buchanan managed to choke out. Even still, he found it in himself to continue their banter, goading on the older man with his cheek and wit. “As for the whipping, I can only expect such from you.”

Steve listened, catching the meaning in his words. Instantly, the fire smoldering in the pit of his stomach flared to life, burning up his spine and making his skin tingle with want. Oh what a dangerous game the boy played, tempting him with such promises. “Are you so sure you want to start this on Christmas Eve of all nights?” Steve asked. His voice, previously light and airy, had taken on a faint growl of want, husky with that blatant temptation and driven by the feeling of his Pet’s warmth against his own. Even still, as he spoke he could feel Buchanan shifting, clearly aroused by the idea of getting to play even on such a hallowed night as this, and his own arousal only spiked further.

“Yes,” Buchanan said simply. He tilted his head, looking down at his Master with utter want burning in his eyes. His fingers brushed over Steve’s shoulders, across the silk of the robe over bare skin, and he pushed the cloth down to gain access to the column of his throat to stroke tenderly. “If I will not have you read to me, then I wish to entertain you with play. Is that a problem?”

“None whatsoever,” Steve said. With that, he reached up, cupping the back of Buchanan’s neck to tug him down into a kiss. Ah well… he had promised himself to leave the night of Christ’s birth sacred, but his Pet was ever the troublemaker. Perhaps the Lord would forgive him for this transgression, just this one time.

With that thought in mind, Steve allowed his hands to roam. Up and down the column of Buchanan’s back, he felt the skin raised with gooseflesh, prickled with the chill of the air around them, and he let his nails rake over the little bumps, teasing his oversensitive skin further. “Are you still cold? You were quite chilled when you came in earlier.”

“No I am well,” Buchanan insisted. As he spoke, he rocked his hips, grinding down against Steve’s lap and eliciting a quiet response between them. The barest touch of their bodies through layers of silk, their sensitive cocks tickled by the buttery smooth cloth only drew a gasp out of the both of them as Buchanan’s hands fisted on Steve’s shoulders, his fingernails digging into the cloth of his robe to rock his hips for more friction.

Steve fought back the little moan that crawled up his throat, wanting nothing more than to fill the room with the sound of his delight. His fingers tightened on Buchanan’s waist as he felt the boy’s actions growing more insistent with each moment. Already, he could feel his arousal reaching its peak, the tickle of silk and warm bodies driving him mad. It seemed that he was not the only one growing closer to his ultimate release; even just these gentle, rocking motions had rendered his Pet panting and wanting for just that little bit more.

 _‘Well this just won’t do at all,_ ’ he thought to himself through the haze of impending climax. He attributed it to the good feelings of the day and Buchanan’s ever growing boldness the longer he stayed in the company of his proud Master, and his fingers tightened on the Consort’s waist to try and slow his actions down. “Bucky… listen love,” Steve said, husky with desire. He wrapped his arm around his waist, tightening his grip to stop the motion of his hips as he looked up at him. “Shh… listen to me. You are much too worked up, if you wish to thoroughly enjoy yourself. Slow down.”

“But Master,” Buchanan said, his throat tense around his words. “Please…? Please, I want to feel you.”

“And you will, love. But you must slow down,” Steve said. “You are not listening to me.”

“I listen,” Buchanan said, a little more forcefully this time. Even still, his hips did not stop their motions, pushing past the resistance of Steve’s arm as his cock, hard with want, brushed against his hip. “I promise, I listen. Please? Oh please, Master, let me feel you…”

“Buchanan,” Steve said, layering authority in his words to try and elicit the proper response. When that did nothing to stop Buchanan’s actions, he frowned. It had been awhile since Buchanan had decided to try and overthrow his authority in bed, and the sudden change had Steve’s ire rising with each moment his Pet fought to set the pace himself. It occurred to Steve, then, that perhaps Buchanan had simply had a bit too much wine and the drink had loosened him up considerably. “Buchanan, you _will_ listen to me. Stop now and let me take care of you as you want.” As he spoke he finally got his hands on Buchanan’s hips, looking up at him with that same disappointed frown on his lips as he, at last, halted their motions with a strong grip.

Buchanan whined in response, leaning forward to press his forehead to his shoulder in petulant defeat. “ _Po'shyol 'na hui,”_ he grumbled, his figure trembling in Steve’s grip as if he were physically restraining himself from pushing himself over the brink without his Master’s help.

Steve stopped dead. Hearing the words lilted over the calm air around them had the man taken aback, and he looked up at the boy with shock and outrage of his face at the disrespect from his submissive. Of course, swearing in bed was common, sure. They had every right to exclaim their pleasures in any way they chose. But to _be cursed_ by his beloved One simply because he’d asked him to behave? It was inexcusable! “Excuse me?” he demanded. Grabbing at Buchanan’s hands he pulled them away from his shoulders and sat up, leveling him with a glare. “Excuse me, _what_ did you just say to me?”

Seemingly catching onto his mistake, Buchanan’s eyes went wide as he stared down at his Master, jaw slack and fingers trembling in his tight grip. For a moment, the embarrassment of being caught out rendered him speechless before shame flushed his cheeks bright red and he ducked his gaze from him. “I-I… I didn’t… I thought-”

“Indeed. You forgot that I can still understand you, didn’t you?” Steve asked. Pushing his One off of his lap, he sat the Pet down on the bed before standing aside the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. He was the very epitome of authority as the teen sat, cross-legged and properly chastised for his inappropriate remark, and Steve’s eyes flashed with anger and disappointment at his love. “Honestly, Buchanan, you think cursing at me is going to get you what you want? Look at me!”

Buchanan flinched, but raised his eyes to his Master. He looked properly sorry for saying such a thing to him, but it did little good to calm the fire burning in Steve’s chest. “I am sorry, I didn’t think-”

“No, you are right. You _didn’t_ think. You simply spouted disrespect to me and expected to get your way. You are not a child, Buchanan. You are a Consort, and that kind of behavior is not tolerated in this house.” Pointing at the pillow on the other side of the room, Steve snapped his fingers. “Go. Sit there and think about your actions.”

Buchanan nodded, though the action seemed pained. With utter embarrassment and shame for his loose tongue, he slowly crawled off the bed and slinked across the room, taking a seat on the cushion. He had just settled into the plush thickness when Steve turned to him, his frown still etched deeply into his features.

“No. Kneel,” he said simply. When he saw Buchanan shift position and kneel in the center of the cushion, Steve grabbed the pitcher of water and poured a glass for his Pet. With the glass and pitcher in hand, he marched over to hand off the glass to his One with little tenderness in his touch. “Drink. You will _not_ come back to my bed intoxicated if you can’t keep your childish comments to yourself.”

Buchanan took the glass, staring down into the depths. He looked gutted by the whole situation, shame and guilt casting his gaze downward as he brought the cup to his lips and drank without a word.

Steve sighed, watching him for a long moment. When he saw the youth finish the glass of water and pour himself a second, he turned on his heel and left the room, wrapping his robe around his waist as he marched downstairs. He didn’t quite know what he was looking for. Perhaps… well, perhaps a chance to see if Darcy had left the kettle on since their return from their adventure out in the snow. God only knew he’d need a cup just to rein in his temper enough to properly punish his Pet.

But, alas as he slipped into the kitchen on quiet feet, he found everything had been properly put away, much to his disappointment. Frustrated, Steve brushed his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down as his mind scoured possible outlets for the lingering dregs of his anger. He gave up a few moments later and he sighed, taking a seat in the kitchen and resigning himself to accepting defeat in this fruitless venture...

That is, until he spotted _it_ sitting on the window sill.

Strange, really… as Steve caught himself eyeing it up with interest, it took him a moment to realize what exactly it was he was contemplating on doing before he made up his mind. The thought struck him as vaguely twisted, perhaps a little harsh… but he knew very well what kind of punishments his Pet enjoyed when he needed to be properly redirected. This would be no different… perhaps it would add just a little extra “spice” to their scene.

Yes… yes, indeed this would be precisely how he would exact the perfect punishment on his disobedient Pet. As he admired his newest tool, holding it up to the faint light emanating into the room from the moon outside, Steve’s smile only grew as he settled on his decision and returned to the table to prepare for his return to Buchanan’s side.

A few minutes later, Steve finally slipped back into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. There on the cushion, he found Buchanan seated as obediently as ever, his hands resting in his lap and his eyes downcast before him. The pitcher of water was half drunk at this point, and Buchanan looked a bit more clear-minded than he had been a few minutes prior, if not just as ashamed of his actions. Still, Steve had deemed Bucky was fit for punishment, and by God would he give it to him.

Deciding to stretch out the silence, Steve simply walked past his Pet and took to the bed again. He stretched out on the plush blankets, his legs resting on the bunched cloth as he picked up a second book and made a show of reading it. Granted, he barely read the words printed on the page, leaving his attention solely to bide his time and let the Consort sweat out his mistake. But still, he put effort into convincing his lover that he was very much disappointed in his choices, and kept his nose buried in the book as he held to his convictions.

Almost an hour passed before Steve finally put the book down and turned his attention back on his love, the Consort still kneeling obediently in the center of the cushion. He’d only moved once the whole time, to relieve himself from the copious amount of drink he’d consumed, which Steve did not ridicule or pay attention to. As long as the boy had gone straight back into position, Steve allowed it.

Even now, Buchanan remained upright, alert, and still looking quite sorry for himself as he watched his Master, his hands limp in his lap. Steve sighed. With that, he closed the book and sat up, his actions gaining Buchanan’s attention. Without a word, Steve got up from the bed and walked over to him, reaching out. When he took his hand in his, Steve pulled the teen up to his feet and tugged him along to the bed where he stood at the end, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “Well?” Steve said, looking sternly at him. “What have you to say for yourself?

Buchanan hesitated. For a moment, he kept his eyes locked on Steve’s waist. He didn’t dare look up at him, until at long last he finally raised his eyes and offered him a saddened look. “I am sorry. I misbehaved, and spoke out of turn,” Buchanan said softly.

“Indeed. And all for what?” Steve said, his eyes darting down to the floor for a moment. Where they both stood at the foot of the bed, a small rug lay beneath their feet, thick enough to act as a cushion but not as thick as the pillows Buchanan was used to kneeling on. With a satisfied nod, Steve suddenly reached out and grabbed at his muslin pants, pulling them down his thighs. He ignored the gasp of surprise from his Pet as he worked, divesting him of his clothing before he pushed, lowering the Consort to kneel on the floor. When the teen was kneeling on the rug before him, Steve turned away and went to the bedroom wardrobe where he removed their bag of toys from inside.

“You wanted me to push the limits, yes?” Steve asked, turning his attention back to the Consort. From where he stood, he could see the excitement and worry growing on Buchanan’s features, and he hide a smirk as he tossed the bag onto the bed behind him. “You wanted to urge me into action before you were ready. Perhaps you should have thought about that and the consequences of those actions, Bucky. It’s a shame… I would have given you what you wanted, if only you had been patient with me. Now it is half past midnight. We could have played earlier if you had behaved but apparently you needed the punishment of delay to remind you that I am not one to be trifled with,” Steve said. His voice, dominant and mellow, floated over the air, and he watched as Buchanan shivered in delight at the deep, baritone scolding him.

As he spoke, Steve reached out and withdrew the silk bonds from inside the bag. Without a word, he gestured to the teen, watching as he folded his hands behind his back, looking more eager than embarrassed as he had been moments ago. Steve tutted, reaching down and lashing the ties around his wrists, before securing the loose ends to the posts of the bed. When he was certain that his arms were secure, he then reached into the bag and withdrew the leather cuffs and spreader bar. “What do you think this means, hm? Answer me,” he demanded, slapping one of the leather cuffs across his palm with a sharp ‘crack!’

Buchanan flinched, though he held back a little moan of appreciation at the sight of his Master’s commanding tone. “You will give to me what I asked?” he said, sounding only the least bit uncertain.

“That’s right. I always give you what you need, Bucky. But we’re going to add a little extra to this particular scene. Since you decided to act so impishly to me, and would not remain patient as I asked, then perhaps your urgency can only be slaked with the proper treatment.” Bending down, Steve dropped to his knee as he secured each cuff around his knees. He then picked up the spreader bar, dialing the length up and settling it between his spread legs. Clasping the locks in place, he looked down, satisfied to see the boy kneeling almost uncomfortably, his knees far apart. His cock, already half interested with anticipation, now stood fully erect, hanging heavy between his legs as the boy breathed deeply, looking utterly wanton as he knelt on the floor, secured tightly in place and completely at his mercy.

With that, he reached into the pocket of his robe and withdrew his prize. The moment he had tugged it free from his pocket, he watched as Buchanan’s eyes clouded over in confusion at the sight, and he glanced down, giving it an appraising look before speaking again. “Do you know what this is?”

Buchanan swallowed, nodding once as he eyed up the piece of ginger, carved into a column with but a piece to grasp by the fingers. “It is ginger?” he asked, already catching onto what Steve had in store for him.

Steve nodded. “That’s right. Ginger. And this, I believe, shall offer up the cure to the urgency with which you tried to force upon our lovemaking earlier.” With that, Steve reached down, holding the ginger carefully as he wrapped his free hand around his boy’s back. With a careful touch, he grasped at the Consort’s right buttock, pulling the skin to part his cheeks just a bit. With that same, stern expression, Steve carefully slotted the piece of ginger up into his channel, prodding at the pucker of his hole for a moment. The slick-slide of the raw root glided along his skin, causing the boy to flinch at the cool texture against his hole

Not letting up, Steve acted quickly, slotting the ginger up into his channel with a firm hand. He felt the boy’s walls open up to his actions, allowing the root to slide up into his body until it came to rest at the little handle he’d carved out of the piece. With that, Steve pulled his hands away, allowing Buchanan’s body to close up around the little plug he’d fashioned earlier that night. Patiently, Steve sat back on his heels, watching the boy’s expression, silently curious to see what would happen with his new toy firmly tucked up inside him.

He got his answer right away. The moment he’d let go of him, Steve was met with near instant reaction from Buchanan. His eyes blew wide at the feeling of the ginger inside him, a faint little moan escaping into the quiet room as the plug spread him apart. That moan of delight quickly melted into a sharp whine, his eyes blowing wide in shock. Buchanan gasped, wide eyes welling up with tears instantaneously as he began to squirm viciously against the binds holding him secure to the bed. “Oh! _OH!!_ Oh God! _Auuunnh, M-master!”_ he gasped. Hyperventilating, he struggled for breath, trying desperately to close his legs to escape the burning inside him as he pulled against the silk ties that kept him upright on his knees. Those binds didn’t let up an iota, and he slumped forward, squirming viciously in his spot as he cried out at the foreign, uncomfortable feeling inside him. “Oh God, it burns! _NNnngghhh it burns_!!”

Steve listened, and heat immediately crawled up his spine. The sight of seeing his Pet squirming in front of him, the stinging causing a delicious, pink flush to overtake his face, and his cock hard and erect at the painful sensation, only made the man even more hungry with his desires. He reached out, cupping his palm over the boy’s cheek and gave the flushed skin a little pinch. “It burns, does it? Like your absolute need to push me along and test me, hmm?”

Buchanan whimpered, nuzzling into Steve’s palm. Tears that had welled up to dangle precariously on the tips of his lashes finally fell, two solid drops running down his cheeks as he looked up at his Master. “Y-yes,” he squeaked. His thighs trembled visibly, length bobbing as his body continued to twitch, bobbing back against the bed, rocking forward and seemingly unsure of where to go to alleviate the stinging he felt inside him. “Nnnn-God… Fuck, Master… _please_!”

“Please?” Steve asked, schooling his voice into a complacent, calm murmur as he got to his feet. With a careless hand, he pulled his robe off and tossed it to the floor, standing in nothing but his pajama pants before him. He kept his eyes trained on the Consort, his jaw set as he reached down and undid the tie, letting those pants fall to the floor to puddle around his ankles as well. “Please, what?” Steve asked, slowly kicking the silky material off to the side to stand naked before him. His own length, proud and hard, hovered just before Buchanan’s lips, and he reached out grasping at his Pet’s hair to give the dark strands a tug? “Please what? I thought you _wanted_ me to push you. Deepen the ache of your arousal until you couldn’t tell which was up or down any longer.”

Buchanan whined, the tone broken as his trembled grew greater. At last, his whole body was nearly vibrating, his skin red as the burning root inside him continued to work its magic on his eager body. “I-I do… oh God, I do…”

Steve nodded, tightening his grip in his hair a moment later. “Then I suggest you open your mouth,” he said, butting the tip of his cock against the seam of his lips. “Get to work.”

Buchanan cried out, barely able to squeak a coherent response. Even still, his eyes darted down to Steve’s length, the hot, hard jut of his dick pressing the weeping head against his lips. Without protest, Buchanan opened his mouth, allowing Steve to slide in. Picking up a quick, even pace, Buchanan bobbed his head back and forth, his lips a hollow circle of lush skin and warm wetness around his length as he sucked with all the enthusiasm he could muster. Even as he worked, his sniffles overtook the sounds of his lips gliding over his cock, the sound utterly intoxicating to Steve.

Steve moaned, his fingers digging into that dark hair tighter still. He dug his heels into the floor and rocked his hips forward, thrusting into that warmth as he watched his boy work diligently, despite the seemingly uncomfortable burn in his channel. It was a sight to behold, driving him absolutely mad with want. Steve bit his lip, fighting back the rising pleasure that shivered up his spine as he laid his free hand along his throat, cupping just over his collar to hold him steady. “Stop moving,” he ordered, though his words were breathless at best. When Buchanan ceased his motions, his mouth still wrapped tightly around him, Steve withdrew until just the tip remained between those soft lips of his. He gave his lover a firm look, though his eyes shimmered with unyielding want and desire for this perfect boy in his grip. “Hold still… do not move or we stop, do you understand?”

Buchanan nodded, whimpering a little as a seemingly fresh wave of heat from the ginger in his body consumed him. He shuddered hard, his knees near giving out beneath him, but he held his ground firmly, wanting to please his Master in the aftermath of his transgression.

Steve smiled, the first real smile he’d given to his boy in over an hour. With a nod of understanding, Steve tightened his grip around his throat, tugging the dark hair sharply before he thrust forward, taking on a firm pace as he fucked into his mouth with growing enthusiasm. The feeling… god, it was intoxicating. Steve fought to keep his eyes open, wanting nothing more than to allow himself to succumb to his desires and simply lose himself in the heat of his love’s mouth. Instead, he steeled himself, picking up the pace until he was enthusiastically pleasuring himself, claiming that wet mouth and luscious throat for himself.

Beneath him, Steve felt Buchanan gasp and gag for breath around the plundering of his cock. He looked down, watching as those tears started anew, flowing down his skin as he hollowed out his cheeks to allow for ample pressure around his length. He kept his eyes locked on Steve, tickling his tongue across the underside of his dick every few strokes until he was heaving for breath through his nose, and whimpering without hindrance. Every so often, Steve pulled out of his mouth, only to hear his boy plead into the room, a litany of “Oh God,” “Yes,” and “It burns so much!” filling the void between them before his lips were stuffed full once again.

God, it was almost too much. Steve felt his own groan of delight rip from his throat as he snapped his hips forward, growing closer to the precipice of his orgasm. “God, Bucky… so good… you’re so good for me. My Pet, _nnngh!_ ” he panted, nearly babbling incoherently as his orgasm continued to grow. The minutes passed and his hips never stopped their motions, the boy never stopped his sniffling cries as he claimed his mouth. He could feel the teen’s mouth running over, drips of saliva pooling on his bottom lip to run down his chin. He allowed himself a moment to tear his eyes open and look down at him, to see the glorious sight for himself.

It proved to be his downfall.

Upon looking at his Pet, his flushed face, splotchy with tears and redden specks of his arousal, the hang of his dick between his legs visibly throbbing with the need for release… the way his hips squirmed as the root continued to burn and sting inside him pushing him along that fine line of pain and pleasure. It was too much for Steve. His cock twitched hard inside his mouth, and a wrecked moan escaped him as his orgasm hit its peak. But just before he spilled over, Steve suddenly acted, pulling out of Buchanan’s mouth. The moment the head of his length passed his lips, he spilled over, cock twitching hard as he came, spurts of pearly ropes shooting out to splatter across his Pet’s mouth. He couldn’t help himself as he uttered another, deep grunt of pleasure, stroking himself through his release as his come painted itself across his lover’s face, sticking to smooth, pale skin of his cheeks and chin until at last he was spent. “OH fuck!” Steve gasped, pressing his free hand into the post of the bed to hold himself up. In his palm, his dick shuddered one last time before his orgasm left him boneless as he stood, barely holding himself up before his Pet.

In front of him, Buchanan gasped as his face was defiled so deliciously with his orgasm, the white splatters of come sticking to his skin as he stared up at his Master with burning need in those blue eyes of his. His tongue darted out, catching any drops of his release he could as he lapped it up hungrily, whimpering for more attention. His hips stilled gradually, no longer squirming with the sting of the root inside him, though his arousal did not abate once as he knelt before him as eager as ever to please his beloved Dominant in any way he could. “Master… please… _I need you_ ,” he whispered, looking far too innocent with Steve’s come painted across his face and his cock throbbing for touch.

Steve panted, shaking his head at him. When he received a pained whine at being denied, Steve shook himself, just enough to get himself back under control before he was bending down. With a deft hand, he undid the ties of the silk sashes, letting the cloths fall to the floor. With firm gestures, he grabbed at Buchanan’s waist, hoisting him up bodily from the floor to deposit him onto his back on the bed. His knees, still separated by that delicate silver bar, remained up in the air, and the boy looked up at Steve with confusion and excitement at suddenly being tossed onto the bed. But it would not be for what he expected.

Instead, Steve stood next to the bed, his dick flagged from his release as he reached into their bag of toys. A moment later he withdrew his hand, holding up the ornate paddle they’d only used a handful of times. He held it up to his Pet and watching as his eyes widened impossibly, and Steve sighed, gently clapping the wooden device over his free palm. “No. Not yet. We’re not done with this lesson, Bucky,” he said simply. Twirling the paddle in his hand, he reached down and grasped at the teen’s right thigh, pulling it up. His left leg followed suit, and Steve carefully maneuvered the Consort, bending him in half as he lifted his legs up above him. Exposing his ass to the cool air around them, Steve suddenly gripped the handle of the paddle in his palm and brought it down across his backside in a gentle arch, the quiet “slap!’ of the wood against his bare skin thin but no less concussive. The slap was followed by Buchanan’s needy yelp as his body tensed up, still clutching the little ginger plug inside him until he was squirming hard on the bed. Clearly, the light spanking had reinvigorated the root’s burning qualities within him, and Steve felt his cock stirring back to life at the sight of his Pet’s arousal and the faint pink of his skin.

“You will count to ten,” Steve said, layering cool and collected revere over his lustful tone as he spoke to the whining boy under his grasp. He brought the paddle down against his ass again, a bit more firmly as he spread that pink rouge across the meat. “You will count to ten without crying out, as you seem to be wont to do with talking back to me. If you do cry, we start over and we will start over every single time until you can make it to ten without shouting. Only then, when I am satisfied that you have learned your lesson, only then will I claim you. Is that understood, Bucky?” He brushed the paddle along his stinging skin, before dropping it briefly to the bed, just long enough to extract the ginger plug from within him. With a careless hand, he threw it onto the floor, turning his attention back to Buchanan before picking up the paddle once more. He waved it, teasing the boy with the device before running it across the smooth, reddening skin before giving one last swat. “During this time, if you absolutely cannot stand this any longer, and I mean _cannot_ stand it, you will say ‘longing’ to me. Do you understand?”

Buchanan nodded, already whimpering needy for his Master’s attention. Steve offered him a small smile, his stern expression softened by his understanding. Almost instantly, that soft look faded away, leaving behind the flat, commanding look of the Master Buchanan desired so much, and he tightened his grip on the handle. “Very well, then. Begin.”

With that, Steve pulled back, letting the paddle hover for a moment before he lurched forward, swatting the paddle across his backside with much more force than before. The echoing “crack!” of the paddle meeting skin resounded in the room, making the boy flinch hard. He watched as Buchanan bit his lip, holding back the cry that wanted to leave him as he inhaled through his nose, steeling himself to do as he was told. “O-One,” Buchanan gasped, shaking his head hard. A moment later, Steve reared back and struck again, putting force behind the blow as the paddle met his skin again, echoing louder than ever into the room. “Two! Oh God, _Please_ …!”

“Very good,” Steve said. His cock, previously flaccid, was now erect again, hard and wanting for this lovely boy that behaved so well for him. He struck two more times, listening as Buchanan whimpered louder still. His hand paused on the upswing of the fifth stroke, and he leveled him with a hard look. “Don’t make me start over.”

“I won’t… oh God, please…” Buchanan said, his voice wavering viciously. He failed, however, as a moment later, Steve’s fifth and sixth strike cracked across the red skin, and Buchanan cried out, his tears flowing down his cheeks as he shook his head. “ _Aauuunh_!! St-stop! Oh, it hurts! _Pozhaluysta,_ it hurts!”

Steve hesitated, shaking his head down at the boy before he tightened his grip on his thigh. “Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, brushing the paddle along red, abused skin. “Do I hear ‘longing’, Bucky? Tell me.”

Buchanan wept, shaking his head in a seemingly nonsensical mind of his own. His cries ebbed into the room, though he struggled to rein in his actions as he forced his body to go limp under his touch. “N-no… no… Master!” he panted, his fingers digging into the bed sheets beneath him. Bless him, but Steve didn’t even have to tell him to keep his hands at his sides. “I can… I can do it.”

Steve nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Very well. We’ll start over then.”

Buchanan nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as fresh tears coursed down his face. He grunted as Steve picked up again, starting from the beginning as two, three, four strokes cracked across his backside. “Five! _Six!_ ”

Steve was losing himself. He could feel it in the way his limbs shook, forcing him to focus hard on keeping the paddle directly on the meat of his backside and nowhere else. He panted heavily, feeling the pull of longing, the mind-numbing bliss of watching his Pet submit to him washing over him as fog rolls across the landscape of their home. His focus remained on the boy, striking again and again, until he too felt drunk on the moment, the warmth of his Pet beneath his fingers, his cock throbbing with aching need to bury inside him. The world was blind around them, nothing more than muted greys and dull silence encircling this perfect moment of Paradise painted in pastels and heavenly cascades of light. His focus remained on his love, drowning him in this all-powerful hold this precious Pet held over him until he felt awash at sea, floating in the tumultuous waves of fire and ice. By the time he heard his Pet shout “ten!” Steve was teetering on the brink, confused as to where the last four strokes had gone, and barely breathing through the deluge of bliss.

 _But he had done it_. Buchanan had successfully taken his punishment without crying out, and that was all he asked. Unable to hold back, Steve allowed the full body tingle of his arousal to pull him deeper into the depths, the control and power and love for his Pet sending his body awash in lovely chills as he threw the paddle to the floor where it clattered against the wood. With his hands free, Steve climbed onto the bed, his eyes burning with lust and desire as he advanced on the weeping Pet before him, intent on taking away those tears and replacing them with nothing but song.

He was on a mission. His mission was to kiss away those tears and to bring his love to the release he was so desperately craving. Like a star on a collision course with fate, his attention remained on him, grabbing his thighs and pushing him up the bed until his head was resting on that feathery down of their shared pillows. He never took his eyes off of him as he leaned in, pressing kisses up and down the column of his pale throat and nursing the skin tenderly as his hands continued to ghost across naked flesh. For a moment he allowed his fingers to brush over the jut of Buchanan’s weeping cock, feeling the slick-slide of his precome dribbling from the tip and loving the warm, sticky mess it left behind in his palm. Without a word, he reached up with his free hand, blindly grabbing for the side table until it came in contact with the bottle of lubricant they always used. The bottle felt lighter than ever; he’d have to go and buy fresh.

With the bottle in hand, he uncorked it easily, before moving his torso enough to thread himself between the teen’s still restrained legs. As he worked, his mind swam with delight, floating on a sea of tranquil waters under starlight and drowning his every sense in the luscious burn of his need. He was mindless as he poured the fluid into his hand, slicking up his length eagerly before he recorked the bottle and threw it down onto the bed. With his cock slicked up properly, Steve raised his eyes from where they were locked on the boy’s heaving chest and met his gaze to wordlessly promise him the moon and the stars. “No more tears, my love,” Steve mumbled as he brushed a kiss over the rise of his Pet’s cheekbone. “I’m here… I’m always here.”

Buchanan nodded, sniffles escaping him despite his Master’s promise. He reached up, brushing his fingers over the coarseness of his beard, scratching it gently before he cupped his hand over his neck in return to draw him closer. Close contact… fully body touches… it was precisely what they both needed. “Yes, Master. I know.”

Steve breathed evening, letting his eyes drift shut for just a moment. He took the time to savor the feeling of that soft hand on his cheek, the warmth of his touch seeping into his skin and warming him from the very bottom of his heart, up. Making love with his beloved always felt like home, like he’d never be safer without him. Funny, the Master needing to feel safe and loved from someone meant to be his submissive… but it was _true_. Buchanan completed him in ways he’d never dreamed possible, and he would burn in the pits of Hell before living a single day without him again.

Steve exhaled, pressing a loving kiss to that smooth palm before dragging that kiss down to make contact with the Consort’s. He was barely conscious of himself as he rocked his hips forward, his cock prodding the loosened, fluttering hole of his entrance as they kissed so sweetly; a few short strokes and he was sliding into his body, claiming him thoroughly as his length slid deeply inside him. Enveloped in that warm channel, Steve broke the kiss and exhaled loudly, pressing his forehead to Buchanan’s as he steadied himself, his hands pressed into the mattress beneath him for a tenuous balance. He didn’t even give the Consort a chance to get used to his length inside him, watching only as the cool slide of his cock inside him soothed the burn of the ginger that had ravaged him so perfectly just a few minutes prior.

“M-Master… Master, _ngggh…_ ” Buchanan whimpered. His words sounded foggy, almost slurred as if the wine he’d drunk earlier was still coursing through his blood and tainting his very consciousness. His arms moved, trembling visibly as he reached up to wrap around the older man’s shoulders and hold tightly to him, allowing him the chance to rock down against his cock and envelope him further. They were so close, it would take the Will of God to separate them once again. And even then, Steve knew they would both put up a fight if that ever were to happen. “Please… move, Steve… please..!”

Steve shushed him, though it was not to silence his words. Instead it was to calm the feverish ache inside him, his pupils blown wide as their eyes met and locked into each other, never to tear apart again. “You need but ask me once, my love,” Steve whispered, carefully adjusting himself to bear his weight onto his knees just enough to blanket the boy’s body, but not crush him. Steve adjusted his balance, his fists pressed into the bedding beneath him as he withdrew from inside him, pulling out almost entirely before he thrust back in once again.

The pace was slow, almost sedate. It would have seemed lazy, if not for the power with which his hips drilled forward, rocking the other nearly up off of the bed with each one. He was wordless as he made love to him, hungrily basking in that liquid hot heat of his walls clamping around his length as he worked. Every thrust, slow and calculated and so very deep, found its mark on Buchanan’s prostate, stimulating him with every single push. As he moved, never breaking that pace, he lowered himself to his elbows, his torso pressing into that lithe body beneath him and weighing him down as they became one, connected as perfectly as an orchestra illustrates the dance of a ballet. His breathing was short and brusque, huffing out on the down stroke of each thrust until he withdrew and inhaled, setting a maddening pace of beating hearts, gasping lungs and trembling muscles between them. As he did, he pulled his forehead from the boy’s enough to press him back into a dominating kiss, their lips connecting so perfectly, tongues dancing to the tune of their symphony. It was lust and power and love, and Steve was falling deeper and deeper into the pit, the flames of hell and the sunrays of heaven warming them both mind, body, and soul.

Beneath him, Buchanan responded beautiful, crying out as he arched beneath him. The fine lines of his throat, bared to the low light of the candle and the chilly glow of a moonlit landscape outside, making him look angelic. His arms loosened from around Steve’s shoulders, falling to the bed as he pawed at the blankets beneath them, holding tightly to this earth. His walls trembled around Steve, holding him firmly as he accepted his love, and the little whimpers that escaped him only heightened the purity of the moment. He gasped for breath when Steve’s cock brushed perfectly inside him, sending a visible shiver coursing through his figure until he was lax beneath him, splayed open and raw. He was an angel beneath him, the moonlight casting shadows perfectly around him as if wings had ascended from the heavens to frame his lithe figure, accenting the beauty of their adoration. He cracked his eyes open to look up at Steve, the glossy burn of desire striking his eyes and encompassing the blue hue like diamonds glistening, and Steve felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces before it was mended once again, woven into the fabric of Buchanan’s soul until their breathing synched up, heartbeats thrumming in tandem to one another. He could not speak, only offering up the faintest whines of pleasure as his fingers tightened in the blankets beneath him, tugging the loosened cloth in his fists as he flew high on the bliss of their passion.

They never broke their connection. Pressed together from head, almost to toe, they were one being, coupled in the most delicious sense and so, oh so perfect. Steve moaned into the cool air around them, the sound faint- almost nonexistent. He gasped for air as he looked down at his Pet watching the colorful array of pleasure filling his eyes and darkening his cheeks as he lay beneath him, so submissive and wonderful as time flowed by, a river of silk and heat, wrapping them both up in one another as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips to tell his love _“I am here. I am with you. I will always be with you…”_

He moved his hand from the bed, letting his fingers ghost over the teen’s nipples, twirling the pink buds carefully before pinching with sharp gestures. He tugged and rubbed, massaging the sensitive skin until Buchanan was writhing beneath him. He didn’t expect his Pet to follow suit. As he worked over those nipples, silently watching this display of affection with utter devotion in his eyes, he felt the boy reach up with a trembling hand and brush his own fingertips over his the fine hairs on his own chest before ghosting down to the pert buds standing erect in his bliss. Those tender strokes caught over the peaks of his own nipples, catching and tugging on them just slightly, and he found his hips bucking forward sharply at the seemingly innocent touch. His moan escaped him, wrecked of any dignity as he pressed his forehead to his Pet’s shoulder in return.

Wordless, save for his pleasured mumblings, his hips finally picked up pace, snapping forward into Buchanan’s body as he reached down, snaking his hand between them. He took hold of Buchanan’s cock in hand, and adjusted himself, giving room to stroke him through the pleasurable high they were both feelings. As he worked, Buchanan cried out, going limp against the bed as those new sensations overtook him, pushing him back under the tidal wave of arousal until he was helpless to his Master’s touch. With his lip caught between his teeth, Buchanan’ lost touch with the world around them, visibly sinking deeper and deeper until he had hit the very bottom of the well, mumbling incoherent Russian into the room as his orgasm swelled up in the flushed body beneath Steve until one final twist of the Master’s hand over his cock had the delirious boy going taut beneath him with a voiceless shout. Mouth falling open in his silent scream of pleasure, Buchanan came, his length twitching viciously in Steve’s grip before spilling over to stain their skin in lovely, pearled patterns.

It was enough to break through the fog of Steve’s own pleasure. As he watched his Pet finally succumb to his bliss, Steve’s hips faltered dangerously, his thrusts uncoordinated before the band of pleasure that had encompassed his mind snapped. The rushing feel of white hot pleasure coursed through his veins, throughout his limbs and finally into his very soul as he drilled up firmly into his Pet’s body. The feeling of his walls fluttering around him had Steve seeing stars as he choked on his cry, his cock spilling over at long last. He pumped him full of his release, length twitching within him as their hips connected once more, firmly pressed together in their intimate touch as his orgasm pushed him into that same, fierce release that swallowed them both whole and spirited them away from the world of the living. Steve’s very spirit succumbed to that delectable embrace of Heaven’s manna, enveloped so tightly within the love of his life, and he went limp, draped over the boy’s body in a warm blanket of heated flesh and strong muscles. Pressing his face into the side of Buchanan’s neck, Steve uttered a low moan, trembling himself as the two of them lay, totally wrapped up in each other and floating through the cosmos, one being joined together in God’s perfect design.  

They lay like this for long moments, too deeply entwined in their mutual haze of pleasure and glowing brighter than the sun, until at last, Steve could feel Buchanan shifting, his bruised backside still pressed into the firm jut of his hipbones. He had to get up. He had to tend to his lover, soothe and treat him and draw him back to the surface of their world once more. Now if only he could get his mind to connect to his limbs properly…

“ _Mmghn_ … Bucky…” Steve mumbled. He slowly lifted his head from the boy’s shoulder, looking down at him with a squint in his eyes. He could see his Pet, totally lost to the world around them as he stared at the draping curtains above them with unseeing eyes. He looked as if he simply slept with his eyes half-open, his voice trapped in his throat as his limbs, arms and restrained legs alike, lay loosely around Steve’s body as if he could never move again. Shaking his head to try and clear the fog from it, Steve slowly pulled out of his Pet’s gaping hole, ignoring the dribble of his come leaking from him. As he slipped out from between his Pet’s legs, he sat down on the bed, taking a moment to get his bearings and totally confused to the dizzying sensation of this moment. He realized, quite quickly, what was going on with himself, and he scrubbed his hands over his face to rouse himself from the stupor before he could slip into the deep abyss he’d had to pull his own Pet from on many occasions. It was the same abyss Buchanan had slipped into this very night.

After a few deep breaths, Steve felt himself come back to himself, albeit slowly. He felt less inebriated, more focused on the task at hand, and he allowed himself to sit up fully, take stock of the situation, and act. With a sigh of content, Steve pushed his hand through his blond hair, turning his attention back to Buchanan. It had only been a few moments since they separated, but it was a few moments too long, even for himself. As he watched his Pet lay on his back, blissful and leaking of his come, the pleasurable mask he had on his face slowly began to crack, confusion overwriting the pleasure he’d felt moments ago. Buchanan… the poor boy always got so flustered when his Master left him alone for far too long after they crossed that threshold into oblivion.

“No, _Zvzeda_ ,” Steve’s voice cut in. In an instant, Buchanan’s uncertainty disappeared, replaced with the contented smile of a young man finding comfort once again and he went totally lax against the bed. Steve smiled as he watched his Pet go limp, and he reached out, undoing the buckles of his cuffs. He pulled them off gently, letting them and the spreader bar clatter to the floor before Steve’s hands were on his thighs again. He massaged around his knees where the leather cuffs had dug in, working the tension out and carefully soothing the chafed skin from the leather, before Steve leaned in to press little kisses up his thigh. “I’m right here. I promise you, I will always be here, remember? I will _never_ leave you, Bucky. You understand this, yes?”

“Yes, Master,” Buchanan slurred. He rolled his head, looking down at Steve with that same, drunk smile on his lips as he reached out to brush his fingers through his blond hair. “I know you will…”

“Good,” Steve said, relieved to see such trust still in the boy’s heart.

He took a few moments, massaging his Pet’s legs carefully before finally getting to his feet. He grabbed for the blankets, throwing them over Buchanan’s naked body to keep him warm before he stumbled into the bathroom to get his cleaning supplies, cursing himself silently at his clumsiness as he disappeared from the room. It would be folly to let his love see him so affected by their love-making. He didn’t want to think what kind of thoughts that might instill in the boy’s mind if he saw him looking just as confused and weak by the power of their fornication as he himself was. If this were to become a regular occurrence, Steve would do well to hide it better the next time around.

The moment he was safely hidden inside the bathroom, he took a moment to splash water on his face and rouse himself. It took longer than he would have liked, but at long last, he felt stable enough to tend to his beloved just as he always did. Feeling just the slightest bit clearer of mind, Steve took his time as he filled the basin of water and carried it and his soaps out to the room. Already, he could see Buchanan nuzzled up to his nose in thick blankets, and he felt his already aching heart swell at the sight. He hated the idea of unearthing him from his cocoon now, but if it got him cleaned up and tended to, then it was a necessary evil Steve had to commit.

Like clockwork, Steve got the boy cleaned of all sweat and come from his sticky skin, taking a moment to run the rag over his own cock and hips to cleanse the streaks of white away. Once he was certain they were both clean, he went to work, dabbing that trusty lavender oil over his knees, and finally turned Buchanan over to massage the oil into his smooth backside with all the tenderness he could muster.

Buchanan flinched at his touch, hissing into the room. The sound was sharp enough that Steve knew the boy was nearly out of his headspace at last, and he felt a pang of remorse at having caused such bruising on his backside. But as he kept his eyes on Buchanan, he looked up only to see the Pet offering him a devoted, lovely smile at him from where he had his cheek pillowed into the crook of his elbows. His tears had long since abated, drying on his skin as his earlier regret for talking back to his Master dissipated at last. Knowing that all was well again, Steve felt a little better as his hands ghosted over his backside, massaging the tender flesh there with firm, gentle strokes.

“There, that should do it for now,” Steve said, sitting up. He fought back a shiver of delight; the vision of red buttocks and his naked Pet looking so wanton before him had Steve shivering in delight, leaning down to press loving kisses just above where the two mounds of his buttocks met. “How do you feel love?”

“Hungry,” Buchanan said instantly, shifting his hips to press his ass into his mouth. Steve smirked at the cheeky action and he smoothed his palms over his ass to calm him back down, an action that was met with some protest. “ _Very_ hungry. And cold. And sleepy. I wish to sleep with you soon.”

“Well, let’s get some food and water into you, and then we’ll get you off to bed,” Steve said. He then got to his feet, standing aside the bed as he helped his Pet sit up too. He watched as Buchanan hissed loudly at the touch, a faint whimper in his throat as he put pressure on his tender backside, and Steve’s remorse returned to him. “Do you want me to carry you?”

Buchanan wondered for a moment before he offered a nod to him. He reached up, fingering the pendant at his throat in his usual, nervous gesture and he lowered his gaze to the floor. “Yes... but I fear I am too big now. I gained lot of weight ever since you brought me to home,” he said, looking up at Steve with imploring need.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head fondly at such a silly concern. Even now, he still felt the need to apologize for gaining his health back? What an odd thought… “You are most certainly _not_ big, and I can without a doubt carry you to the kitchen.” Steve then got to his feet and fetched his robe and pants from the floor, slipping them on with a hurried grip. When he had finished dressing, he carefully helped the teen back into the soft pants he’d divested of him earlier before he scooped Buchanan into his arms. “There, see? Not difficult at all!”

Buchanan grinned, offering his Master a tired giggle before pressing his lips to his throat in appreciation. “Oh alright… where do you take me?”

“To the kitchen. Darcy is asleep, otherwise I’d simply have her prepare you refreshments. But since it is so late and I dare not wake her now, I’ll take care of it.”

“Just do no burn water again,” Buchanan said, flashing him a cheeky grin. He ducked his head and squealed when Steve pinched his side in retaliation, kicking his legs as Steve whisked him away, out of the bedroom and down the stairs on light feet. “Do not add me to tea water!” he whispered, hissing out his response with a barely concealed laugh.

“You had best watch yourself then or I just might do that,” Steve replied. Even still, he couldn’t help but feel lighter than air as he carried his love into the kitchen and set him on his feet. His limbs still felt light and airy, his mind foggy with the pleasurable high that still coursed through his veins, but he had never felt better. Seeing his Pet looking cheerful again after their scene only lightened his mood further, and he gently pressed kisses to his brow in return.

At last, Steve settled the boy into a chair, cushioning the hard wooden seat with a pillow before turning his attention to the stove. Within minutes, he had a kettle of water warming, and had prepared Buchanan’s usual refreshments after they played. Once he was certain that he had everything he needed, and the tea had finished steeping, Steve set about preparing their desired cups of tea, and handed off the treats to his beloved. With that, the two fell silent, drinking and nibbling through a few pieces of dried fruit and biscuits, their fingers laced together over the wood of the table as they relished the feeling of each other’s company in the quiet, dark kitchen. “So, my love. Aside from the _unpleasant_ hour of the evening, how do you feel your first Christmas with us has gone?” Steve asked over the rim of his tea cup.

Buchanan nodded. He shifted on the cushion, flinching a little as the pressure on his skin was exacerbated by the cushion’s thickness. Even still, he offered up a valiant smile to his Master, sipping the tea with dainty gestures. “Wonderful, Master… it was most beautiful day ever. I love every moment with you.”

“I am glad to hear that,’ Steve said. He reached up, brushing his fingers along the boy’s throat before cupping over the back of his neck to pull him closer. He leaned in, ghosting his lips over his forehead before his expression hardened just the slightest bit, and he gave him a stern look. “As for why I punished you, you understand why I did what I did, don’t you?”

Buchanan nodded, looking solemnly to the table as his fingers tightened around the cup in his hands. “Yes. I do, Master. Do you forgive me?”

Steve listened to him, his heart swelling in his chest. For a moment he didn’t speak, taking the chance to admire the beauty of Buchanan’s face, the curve of his lips and the smoothness of his skin. Of course he could never remain angry at his Pet. As long as he had learned his lesson, then that was all Steve could ask of him.

Steve then hesitated, thinking back over their scene. A thought struck him, the memory of their recent attentions causing him to focus on one simple word his Pet had uttered during their play. Normally, it shouldn’t have mattered to Steve, but as he thought back over it, he felt the clutch of his heart, that usual aching pleasure whenever his Pet did something to please him. Even now, the thought of it made his body tremble with delight, and he inhaled sharply, putting the tea cup down before he dropped it. When the silence cut the air between them and Buchanan had looked up in confusion at his Master’s delayed response, Steve offered him a gentle shake of his head. “I apologize, I was just… What you said during our scene. You called me by my name. Why did you do that?”

Buchanan frowned. He clearly didn’t know why the name had slipped out, and his cheeks flushed pink in response. “I-I do no know. But I won’t do it again if you do no want-”

“ _No_ ,” Steve said quickly. He reached out, cupping his fingers over his Pet’s hand as he spoke. “No. I _liked_ it. I want you to continue doing so, in private and in public.”

“But…” Buchanan said, his eyes widening. “But the Union-”

“I don’t care,” Steve said, shaking his head. “To hell with their bloody rules. You are my Consort and I want you to call me by my name. I only wish you to call me Master when we are in a scene. Is that understood?”

Buchanan listened, his eyes wide in awe. Shining brightly, the Consort shivered in delight and nodded eagerly at him, his fingers tightening around his. “Yes, Steve! I will remember to do as such.”

Hearing his name slip from those perfect lips again, had Steve shuddering in delight. Like a warm hand caressing up his spine, the comfort and pleasant buzz of hearing his Pet address him so intimately made the captain smile brighter than sunlight, and he beamed at his Pet in response. “Good,” Steve said, nodding once at him. “Very… very good, my love.” Taking a moment to appreciate the newfound level of respect between them, Steve lifted Buchanan’s hand and gently brushed his lips over the knuckles, taking a moment to cherish each one fondly. “Now drink up. It’s time to get you back into bed, _Zvezda_ , the hour is very late.”

“Yes, Steve.”

Steve smiled, watching as the boy swallowed down the remaining tea in quick gulps. Once the cup was drained, Steve made quick work of putting the dishes aside to be washed in the morning, and swiftly scooped the boy up into his arms again. They made it back to the bedroom in record time as Steve kicked the door shut behind them and carefully stretched his love out on the bed. Without a word, Steve stripped out of his clothing, watching as his Consort followed suit, until they were both naked once again. He quickly curled up under the thick blankets, allowing Buchanan to pillow himself on his chest as he loved to do. The clock was nearing 3 am by the time they both settled in for sleep, and even Steve could feel the pull of exhaustion on himself. He could only imagine how tired Buchanan was now, already dozing on his chest the moment he had laid down. “Good night, my love. And a Merry Christmas to you,” he murmured, his lips pressed into the crown of unruly dark locks of his Pet.

Buchanan hummed in sleepy response, shaking his head as he wrapped himself around his Master in a tight embrace. “Mmm yes, yes… Merry Christmas, Steve. Now… _zatk`nis…”_

Steve blinked, hearing the rude statement coming from his Pet, and taken quite aback by the blatant, childish statement delivered to him. He had just looked down at him, his brows knitting together to scold him for already breaking his promise not to talk back to him, when he saw the grin plastered on his sleepy Pet’s face. Oh the little bugger that he was... He knew _exactly_ what he was doing. “You are a small, spritely little rascal,” Steve said, shaking his head in exasperation.

Buchanan only giggled, fighting back a yawn as he held him tightly in his arms. “Yes… yes, I am.”

Steve sighed, though he couldn’t help but smile. He really had chosen quite the little minx of a boy to love, that was for certain; it would be folly to accept any behavior otherwise from someone as saucy and wonderful, the perfect compliment to the Captain’s more serious behavior. In response, Steve simply pressed a loving kiss to his hair, letting his fingers brush over that collar they both loved so much. As he did, he allowed himself to drift off and follow his Pet into slumber, where they both could lay, safe and warm from the world around them and happily blessed by their love in this cold, wintry world around them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuughhh i always love a good spanking session... but I wonder who the woman in red was... and is she REALLY with the Union???
> 
> Just as a preview, next chapter will be focusing on a not so pleasant side of their sexual relationship: a dom/sub drop! But who will be the one to face this unpleasant side effect??? We'll find out in the next chapter!! Stick around!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [TUMBLR](http://steves--winter--boobear.tumblr.com/) MY FLOCK.


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